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“Don't turn around
'Cause you're gonna see my heart breaking
Don't turn around
I don't want you seeing me cry
It's tearing me apart that you're leaving
I'm letting you go”
- Ace of Base, “Don’t Turn Around”
---
Fugo slammed open the door of her temporary bedroom, almost going down on all fours in her haste to spill out into the hallway before she corrected her balance in her mad dash for the door.
“Whoa!” Abbacchio flattened herself against the wall to avoid getting run over. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, Little Sister?”
“Nowhere important. You can go back to sleep,” Fugo mumbled as she bent to fumble on her shoes at the door. She felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment at the attention since she knew she wouldn’t be able to shake Abbacchio’s attention now that she’d made a spectacle of herself.
In a few strides Abbacchio was at Fugo’s side, looking down with thinly veiled interest. She crossed her arms over her chest to watch as Fugo did a few little stomps to make sure her feet were settled in her heels right. Fugo’s dangly earrings jingled brightly in contrast to how twisted up she was starting to feel inside. It was just that Abbacchio’s silence spoke more than any judging words would have. Fugo was suddenly very aware of how very low her miniskirt sat on her waist and how short it was, how much effort she’d put into styling her hair into the perfect artfully messy updo to match her no-makeup makeup look. Being caught acting this eager for a date? It wasn’t like Fugo at all.
“Shut up,” Fugo grumbled as she rifled through her bag to make sure she had everything she needed.
“I didn’t say anything,” Abbacchio said dryly. She didn’t need to.
“Tell Bruna not to wait up for me. I might be out late.” Fugo carefully avoided eye contact with Abbacchio, but could feel the older woman’s gaze still burning a hole in her side. Was this what girls who still lived with their parents felt like whenever they went out? Fugo couldn’t stand the overbearing atmosphere!
She thought she’d gotten away without any further embarrassment, but Abbacchio just chose not to say anything until the door was closing and she called out, “Don’t forget to use protection!”
---
Mista moved her hands to positions ten and two on the steering wheel like a beginner driver before shifting them back down to casually grip the bottom with only one hand again. A sudden knock on the passenger side window startled her out of her uncharacteristic fidgeting, and she accidentally pressed on the horn for a quick, loud burst.
“Hello?” Fugo asked, muffled through the closed door and window. She pressed a hand to the glass next to her face to cut the glare so she could frown in on her new girlfriend.
“Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention,” Mista apologized sheepishly as she leaned over to unlock the door, immediately freezing halfway leaned over the passenger seat as the door opened when she saw what Fugo was wearing. Her eyes shifted around rapidly trying to find a safe place to focus on.
It was just that Fugo’s miniskirt was practically a belt it was so short, barely covering everything it needed to considering the straps of Fugo’s bright red thong poked over the waistband in brazen arches over her hips. The top wasn’t any better! Any other day before today Mista would be gushing about how cute a job Fugo had done on her DIY cropped t-shirt with slashes cut in parallel lines starting from a little lower than the middle and extending down close to the bottom of the shirt. She would have just ignored the healthy amount of underboob peeking through the slashes out of respect for Fugo as a friend.
But they were no longer only friends.
How was Mista supposed to act towards Fugo now? She didn’t know where their new boundaries were. How close was she allowed to look? How honest could she be about her feelings?
One manicured finger gently brushed up under Mista’s chin to push her jaw closed and tilt her face up. Mista’s dilemma was solved as she was forced to meet Fugo’s serious eyes.
“Mista.” Fugo shifted her hand to cup her girlfriend’s cheek. “You have to move so I can get in the car.”
“Right! Shit, I’m sorry,” Mista laughed anxiously as she jerked back out of Fugo’s grip to sit up properly in the driver’s seat.
“Are you okay? You’re way more jumpy than usual.” Fugo remarked as she slid in the passenger’s side, setting her hobo bag strategically to cover her lap where her skirt threatened to ride up as she sat.
Fugo’s thighs were like a siren song. Mista wanted to slap that purse away so badly and lean down to press her face between them. It was so inappropriate. She was not going to make it through their first date with her sanity still intact.
It didn’t make any sense! What the fuck was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she’d never dated or been with another woman before. Why couldn’t she keep herself together???
“Oh, you know…” Mista reached up to adjust the already perfectly angled rear view mirror to stall as she came up with an answer. “I just feel weird about driving your car around. Are you sure you don’t want it back?”
The passenger door finally clicked closed and then there was silence.
Mista took her time checking the side mirrors while doing her best to avoid looking at Fugo. The silence stretched between them, filling up the car with a sudden cold atmosphere that made Mista fumble as she went to turn the key in the ignition. When she tried again Fugo stopped her by placing one warm hand over her own.
“Mista.”
“Heh, what’s up, Pannacotta? Where, uh, did you wanna go first?” Mista watched Fugo gently pry her hand away from the keys and just take it somewhere off to the side where she couldn’t look. She could feel it though, could feel Fugo press lips that were soft and slightly sticky with lip gloss to her knuckles.
Slowly, Fugo turned Mista’s hand so she could press another kiss against the palm and just kind of stayed there with her face pressed against Mista’s hand. When she spoke Mista could feel her lips move. “To answer your question you have better parking around your place than here around Bruna’s, but I want you to keep my car for now for selfish reasons. It gives me an extra excuse to see you, so please hold on to my keys until I find a new apartment. I like having you around.”
“Fugo…” Mista gasped out, finally turning to look at her.
The tips of Fugo’s ears were bright red, and she nuzzled her blushing face into Mista’s hand with her eyes squeezed shut. It was honestly so adorable Msita couldn’t help but smile. She could find the strength to be good if she could keep seeing Fugo like this, unguarded and vulnerable and happy. This was a large part of the reason Mista decided to try dating once she’d realized Fugo had feelings for her. It wasn’t just an impulsive spur-of-the-moment thing brought on by Fugo’s weirdly romantic apology. Mista already loved her friend a lot, so it just made sense to see what other kinds of love they could explore together.
“Can we go shopping?” Fugo shifted just enough to look at Mista out of the corner of her eye, clearly embarrassed by her own honesty. “Trying to figure out what to wear today was hard. Most of my clothes are gone.”
“Sure and I know just where to take you. There’s this place I’ve been keeping a secret I know you’re gonna love.” Mista grinned. She could do this. She wasn’t going to fuck it all up since she remembered why it was so important to make things work in the first place.
---
“Alright,” Mista said as she cut the engine. “You stay there. I’ll come around and open your door.”
“What?” Fugo paused in the middle of checking out her hair in the mirror of the passenger sun visor.
“Huh? Did you not hear me?” Mista frowned. “I’m gonna help you out of the car.”
“Why?” Fugo snapped, flipping the visor back up with a jerky flip of her hand. She stabbed at the button to unbuckle her seat belt and made to start getting out. “It’s not like I’m helpless, you know.”
Mista reached over to grab her hand before she could open the door, lowering her voice to a calming murmur, “I know, baby. I just want to take care of you. You’re wearing a really tight skirt. It’s cute, but I know it’s gotta be hard standing up in that thing.”
“Oh, uh…” Fugo stared at Mista’s fingers wrapped around her hand, and let herself focus on the calluses brushing against her skin. All the fight brought on by the perceived slight drained out of her instantly in the face of Mista’s warmth and practicality.
It wasn’t like Fugo had forgotten they were dating now, that Mista might want to treat her differently than she had before. She’d been excited for this after all! She was still excited to spend the day with Mista, but deep down she was starting to get worried that Narancia was right all along that something was wrong. Something about how Mista moved, even the way she spoke was really starting to bother Fugo. Every little impatient tap of Mista’s fingers on the steering wheel as she drove, every weird distracted excuse for not listening as Fugo spoke was like a big neon sign telling Fugo: SHE’S NOT AS INTO YOU AS YOU’RE INTO HER!
Maybe she was just being paranoid. Maybe Mista had lied about wanting to date her just to make her feel better about being a human disaster.
Mista opened the door, interrupting Fugo’s thoughts. “Alright, grab my arms. I’ll help pull you up.”
They locked their hands on each other’s forearms, and it took a little awkward shimmying for Fugo to get to her feet. When she managed to straighten up, she accidentally over-corrected to stumble forward against Mista’s chest.
She dropped her flushed face to Mista’s neck to mumble out, “Sorry.”
Mista laughed a little, bringing one of those helpful hands up to rest against Fugo’s back. “Don’t mention it. You’re really cute when you’re all wobbly.”
This.
This kind of moment was exactly what had made Fugo feel like she’d had a chance when she was drunk and a little desperate; yet, back then Mista told her being together would be a bad idea and put her to bed. If she could do it all over again Fugo would ruin everything mistaking Mista’s friendliness and naturally flirty nature for interest just like she had that night.
But Mista was actually interested wasn’t she? She was the one who said she wanted to be Fugo’s girlfriend after all.
“Hey.” Fugo leaned back against her own car, pulling Mista forward against her.
Mista went stiff for half a second before she relaxed into Fugo’s arms, but it was a half second like a grain of sand stuck in the oyster shell of Fugo’s mind. Instead of turning it into a pearl, Fugo started turning the memory over and over to rapidly twist it into the grotesque shape of her own insecurity. She was too much. She was too much. She was too much. Her parents were right. No one could ever love her.
“Hey…” Mista echoed back low and so sweet Fugo could almost taste it. Her eyes dropped down to Fugo’s lips finally!
They were going to kiss. Fugo had wanted it since she’d first slipped into the car, but Mista had been so spacey the mood hadn’t been right to ask, so she’d just made a fool of herself clinging to Mista’s hand instead. They had to be on the same page now; Mista was giving all the right signals. Fugo tilted her head to wait for Mista to close the gap, but Mista just kept looking down past her lips until she saw something that made her eyes widen before she pulled away.
“Let’s get going.” Mista reached to grab Fugo’s hand to lead her down the street. “The shop’s real close.
Fugo pressed her free hand to her confused frown. What had just happened? The only thing Mista could have been looking at lower than Fugo’s lips was her body in the outfit she’d put together deliberately to best show off for their date.
She cut her eyes quickly to the side to look at Mista or most notably how Mista wasn’t looking back at her.
The monstrous pearl in Fugo’s brain was ready. The thought Fugo had was reshaped from a nameless fear into a solid theory. It seemed like Mista just wasn’t attracted to Fugo at all. If that was true their whole relationship change would be over before it even really started. Fugo was too needy to settle for just an emotional connection. She needed the validation of a physical relationship too.
She needed Mista to want her. Was that too much to ask?
---
When Mista opened the door to lead Fugo into the promised boutique there was a checkout counter front and center behind which sat a bored shop worker wearing orange lipstick and a crochet top like a kitschy 70s kitchen made human. He didn’t even look up when the door jingled. He just flipped another page in his magazine and said in a bored voice like he was reciting from a script, “Welcome to En Vogue Consignments. Feel free to look around. Let me know if you need anything… Or don’t actually. I don’t really care.”
Fugo turned towards Mista and raised her eyebrows. Mista just shrugged and took her hand to lead her deeper into the store.
En Vogue had an eclectic mix of designer clothes from foreign collections, past seasons, and well maintained vintage as well as some limited runs of local goods in a special area set aside for artisans to rent. It was where Mista had picked up her favorite hat and many other pieces besides.
“I didn’t know this place was even here,” Fugo murmured conspiratorially. She stepped closer to Mista, adjusting her grip holding Mista’s hand to hug the whole arm.
Mista’s brain went all TV static. She was no better than a man really. She could feel Fugo’s boobs through her shirt both in the way they nestled softly around her arm as Fugo hugged it close and through the holes in the garment. If it were anyone else pulling that move Mista would have suggested they discreetly step into a dressing room for a few moments, but…
She turned her head to watch Fugo look around curiously. There didn’t seem to be any hidden motive there as far as Mista could tell. Fugo just wanted to be close like a girlfriend would, but Mista was here perverting it into something it wasn’t. How many chances had Fugo even gotten to date? She’d been raised in the gang through all her teenage years. Mista had never even seen her even approach anyone as long as they’d known each other.
“Uh so…” Mista gulped down a quick steeling breath as she tried her best not to react too much to the total smoke show clinging to her arm. “What were you wanting to find, baby?”
“I don’t know.” Fugo smiled all playful and coy. Fuck, why did she have to be so goddamn pretty? She was making everything so much harder to deal with. “This place is your suggestion. Show me what you think I’d like.”
Mista wanted to push Fugo up against the bit of empty wall between a display of outerwear and a mannequin dressed in some kind of catsuit and kiss her until they were kicked out of the store. She couldn’t exactly say that though. Soon Fugo was going to notice Mista was starting to tremble with the effort of keeping all her desires in check and her thoughts on the inside.
In the heels she was wearing that day Fugo was about Mista’s height, maybe a little taller, so it was easier for her to lean in to whisper into Mista’s ear all sultry and low, “How would you dress me?”
Fate decided that today was not the day Mista would spontaneously combust in the middle of an eclectic and trendy little boutique. Mista was saved from having to answer as the owner of the store emerged from the back and spotted the two of them standing around.
“Tevin, you useless twink!” a petite woman in big Janis Joplin glasses who looked to be on the younger side of middle aged yelled at her lazy employee still lounging around at the front counter. “Why didn’t you tell me there were cute girls in here!”
“That’s not what you pay me for, Shai!” Tevin shouted back at his boss.
“Hello!” Shai gestured grandly to make her bell sleeves whip around at her store, “Welcome to En Vogue! My own portal to– Oh,” she suddenly stopped her spiel to squint at the pair of them. “You’re Guida. Welcome back, my dear!”
“You recognize me?” Mista blinked in surprised. She’d only met this woman maybe twice before and they hadn’t really talked much.
“Of course, darling. I remember every pretty face that enters my haven especially if they appreciate the treasures I’ve curated here. Let me look at you now.” Shai darted forward to walk a slow, considering half circle around Mista, respectfully making sure only to look and not touch. When she walked back around in front she pointed at Mista’s jeans. “I like this cut of pant on you. Makes your legs look even longer, very nice. The shirt though… It makes me sad. Why so modest?”
“What?” Mista glanced down at her crop top to make sure the baby tee hadn’t suddenly grown full length. “What do you mean modest?”
Shai tutted and shook her head at the poor misguided soul before her. “If I had a rack like yours when I was your age I’d have been showing it off all the time. Hell, I’d be showing it off now.” She sighed and shook her head at Mista a bit more like she wasn’t mad just disappointed. “I’ve chastised you enough. You know my opinion. Now introduce me to your arm candy. Chop chop!”
‘Arm candy?’ Fugo mouthed. Her frown looked more confused than upset.
“This is Pannacotta Fugo.” Mista decided just giving in would be the easiest course of action. “We’re here because she lost most of her clothes in an accident.”
“No! The tragedy!” Shai gasped, full on drew back and covered her mouth with one hand like a character on a soap opera. A piece of her straight black hair even popped out from the side of her bun seemingly just to complete the shocked look. “I cannot let this divine creature leave my humble establishment empty handed. Step away, Guida. Let me see her.”
Again Mista did as she was told and dropped Fugo’s hand to step to the side, still partially to make the whole interaction go faster but partially because it was really amusing to see Fugo look so adorably confused by the benevolent fashion-obsessed weirdo circling around her.
“Mhm, yes yes,” Shai said as she circled around Fugo a second time. “Stunning! Gorgeous! Have you ever done any modeling, my dear? Nevermind. Don’t answer that. We don’t have time. Ohh! I can see it! I know exactly what you need. Follow me, my ducklings! I’ll lead you to victory!”
“Victory over what?” Fugo whispered as she closed the gap between her and Mista back up.
“I dunno.” Mista shrugged and reached for her girlfriend’s hand again. “Let’s find out what she’s got for you.”
---
Between one blink and the next Fugo found herself bundled away into a dressing room in the back of the store with armfuls of clothes to try on. She dumbly watched Mista take everything to hang it on a bar mounted to the wall, only coming out of her daze when Mista made for the door. They were supposed to be spending the day together, and she didn’t really want to let her girlfriend out of her sight even for a moment.
Also, maybe she didn’t want to be alone whenever Shai came back. Fugo had no idea how to deal with the boutique owner on her own. That woman was a singular-minded force of nature.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I didn’t know if you’d want me in here,” Mista said sheepishly.
Fugo frowned. “Why not?”
In the back of her mind she knew why. This had all happened before. She was projecting her own feelings and making Mista feel sorry for her. She needed to let Mista go before she went too far and ruined everything. Just going back to being friends was easier than slowly poisoning their relationship. It was the kind thing to do.
“I dunno. It doesn’t seem appropriate anymore,” Mista shrugged. “Didn’t wanna just be standing here watching you get naked, I guess. I don’t want to, uh…” look at you, Fugo’s brain helpfully finished the sentence.
“Oh.” Fugo wasn’t quite sure what her voice was sounding like. She could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears and a ringing of sorts, an odd high-pitched whine like Purple Haze was behind her eyes getting ready to scream. There wasn’t any anger, familiar and comforting, only a hollowness she wished she could fill with something she didn’t deserve.
“I can stay so we can keep talking!” Mista suggested before fully turning around to face the wall. “This way I won’t see anything, ok?”
“Why?” Fugo stared at Mista’s back like it was a wall she’d put up between them.
This wasn’t how Fugo had expected their date to turn out at all. Mista wasn’t the kind of woman to keep the people she loved at arm’s length, so why did she feel so distant? It was just more evidence to support Fugo’s theory. Taking a step towards Mista didn’t even make Fugo feel any closer.
“Sorry, I’ll wait outside while you get changed if that’s better. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable is all,” Mista said quietly.
Before she could leave the room Fugo finally kicked into action and took a running step to plaster herself against Mista’s back and wrap her arms tightly around Mista’s waist. The momentum rocked them both forward for a moment before Mista dug her heels in and righted them. Mista’s hands coming up to gently cover Fugo’s soothed the ache just a little, just enough for Fugo to speak the truth that was weighing heavily on her heart.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about my comfort. I know you’re not attracted to me. You don’t have to pretend. Just stay with me for now.” Sometimes being the bigger person hurt like hell. The words scraped Fugo’s throat on the way out, choking her. Her eyes burned, and her face grew hot. It was stupid to feel so bad about something that had never even really started.
“What? What are you talking about? Are you crying?” Mista started to shift to the side.
“Don’t!” Fugo tightened her grip to lock Mista in place. “Don’t turn around. Can we just stay like this for a moment? I’m fine. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” Mista groaned. “I can’t believe I’m fucking up this bad. Why do you think I’m not attracted to you?”
“Because,” It felt embarrassing for Fugo to say out loud like she was some spoiled kid mad she wasn’t getting enough attention. “You took one look at my outfit when I got in the car and you haven’t really looked at me since. You keep acting like you want to hurry to get through this and you don’t want to… to be here with me.”
That did it.
Fugo’s voice cracked, and the tears started pouring in earnest. Hopefully Mista didn’t feel them wetting her shoulder. It was pathetic.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Pannacotta. I didn’t mean to make you feel shitty.” Mista fought back. Reaching one hand back, she held Fugo’s head in place while she struggled to loosen Fugo’s hold so she could twist around in her arms.
Fugo was just surprised enough to let her.
“I’m so attracted to you,” Mista kept talking as she cupped Fugo’s face in both hands to swipe at the tears with her thumbs. “I want you so bad I can’t think straight. Heh.”
“Why are you being so weird then?” Fugo asked, not letting herself get distracted by the stupid pun even enough to roll her eyes and remove her gaze from Mista’s for even a moment. She had to know the truth.
“I was trying not to go too fast. I dunno what’s okay for me to say to you, so I decided not to say anything. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong idea. I should have just talked to you about it.” Mista smiled crookedly.
Fugo brought her hands up to place over Mista’s as she thought about this new insight. Mista was right, but they’d both been fucking up by suffering in silence. They could have avoided all of this if Fugo had just asked Mista to kiss her when she first got picked up instead of waiting for some kind of secret signal that never came.
It took two people to make a relationship. Fugo wasn’t going to let Mista be the only one to show some emotional vulnerability.
“I wanted to make out when you first pulled up in my car,” Fugo admitted. “I thought you’d make the first move, so I didn’t ask. You were always really forward when you flirted with guys before we started dating. I thought you’d be the same way with me.”
“But you hate my dirty jokes. I thought you’d like it better this way.” Mista sighed. “What a fuckin’ pair we are.”
Fugo hummed in affirmation. “For the record I don’t mind how unfiltered you are most of the time. Sometimes you’re crude, and you say a lot of weird shit I’d never say. It’s part of what make you you though. I don’t want you to change for me. I like you just the way you are.”
“I kinda feel like that was an insult, but that’s probably also the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Mista leaned in to press her forehead against Fugo’s. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I say what I want? Just warning you I’m gonna be looking disrespectfully as hell.”
“You’re so stupid,” Fugo whispered back to match the mood. “I’m the one who pulled my underwear up like this so you can see it. I want you to look. I’m not actually all that different from you.”
Mista pulled back just enough to look at Fugo again, and Fugo could feel their shared past between them. All the time they’d spent together hanging out in clubs and cafes and each other’s apartments stretched out before her. They did all the same stuff together for fun. They sang as they cooked and cleaned, leaned on each other when they got too drunk, and talked about what they were reading over coffee. Sure they were different in personality, but at heart they were both young women enjoying life and making the best out of their circumstances together.
Fugo wanted to keep doing that. She wanted to enjoy everything she could both with and about Mista.
“Kiss me?” Fugo asked. She pulled Mista’s hands away from her own face so she could lean in to initiate herself, only just stopping from pressing her lips to her girlfriend’s, leaving the width of a hair between them.
Mista’s answer was to close that almost nonexistent gap. The kiss they shared was sweet and chaste just like the friendly greeting kiss Fugo had imagined they should have shared when they first met up. Fugo liked when people had a playful side like Mista. It helped to draw her out of her shell, out of her own head.
Speaking of…
“Mista,” Fugo averted her eyes when she finally pulled away. “Can I ask you something? It’s probably going to sound stupid and desperate. Don’t laugh.”
“I won’t,” Mista promised. “Ask away, baby girl.”
This dating thing was a lot harder than Fugo had thought it would be. She didn’t realize how embarrassing it could feel to voice her needs. It had been a long time since she’d tried anything like this before, and she was pretty sure her past attempt didn’t really count.
“Unless there’s some kind of circumstance in the way where it’s not possible, I want a kiss every time we meet first meet up from now on. I want to kiss you goodbye when we part ways too. Is that okay?”
“More than okay. I’ll kiss you whenever you want. Just say the word.” Mista spun them both around in a circle and let go to start backing up towards a bench on the other side of the dressing room. “But if we’re sayin’ what we want right now I wanna sit here and watch you try on clothes. I think you’re gonna look so hot in red dress Shai grabbed for you. Try that one on first for me, please.”
Fugo blinked, caught off guard by the rapid change of subject for a moment. That was right. They were in there for a reason. “I think you just want to see me take off my shirt,” she said accusingly, turning to reach for the suggested dress to hide her smile.
“No no, I wanna see you take off your skirt too,” Mista waved her hand dismissively, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Turn around. I want to get a good look at what you’ve got so I can make a plan of attack for later. The faster we get done here the faster I can take you home.”
“Whatever.” Fugo rolled her eyes, knowing in her heart that they were going to be okay. “Just tell me what you think I look good in.”