you'd fall in love with anyone - Chapter 1 - tapestryoftrauma - Hatchetfield Series (2024)

Chapter Text

The Starlight Theatre isn’t exactly Lex’s scene. She wants to be an actress, sure—but that’s, like, some far off fantasy. The last time she ever truly acted was back in Kindergarten—thankfully she’d been lucky enough to play the front half of the donkey, unlike Jacob Luton who was stuck being the literal ass. Back then her mom had cared, at least a little, and had shown up for the show, even snapped a couple pictures whenever Lex appeared on stage.

Nowadays she sits on the small table by the entrance to Lex’s apartment inside a box. She thinks she likes her mom a whole of a lot better like that.

Beyond that, Lex Foster wasn’t really built for stage nor screen. In middle school and high school theater had passed her by. Too many late shifts and Hannah pick-ups to attend auditions, or god forbid rehearsals. Any time they weren’t studying (barely), working, or looking after Hannah, she’d been wasting her time smoking. She’d never declare herself a prior member of the smoke club—they were a bunch of losers and Lex would never group herself in with them, unlike Deb and Ziggs and the others, she didn’t have all the time and money to burn on weed. Still, she’d bought weed from them a couple of times over the years, and ran into them at the rare party she attended.

So, how she ended up working on the crew of the Honey Queen padgent’s show at the Starlight Theatre, Lex truly couldn’t explain. It had been a fluke after Toy Zone shut down, the last minute sale only attracting their usual customer Sherman Young and his rabid love for all things Sugey branded, not managing to even outlive the Cinnabon opposite it in the mall. At least Frank had the decency to cover a week and half of their pay—he’d told them he wanted to do two, but he didn’t have enough money for that, due to, you know, the sudden closure. He may have not been Lex’s favorite person, but he was a decent boss, plus it’s hard not to sorta like someone when you spend everyday with them for five years. Frank had even gone as far as to extend good luck to Hannah with high school, which wasn’t much, considering his comment early in the week about the whole falling on her head head rumor for probably the hundredth time. That seemed to be his favorite thing to rag on Lex about.

So, yeah, he wasn’t her favorite person. But he was cool-ish, and he’s the only boss Lex has ever had.

Until now, that is. Despite her better judgment, the giant HIRING NOW sign hanging on the marquee of the Starlight had intrigued her.

The only reason Lex ever was able to keep track of the stupid Honey Queen festival was ‘cause it’s right before her birthday. Lucky her, huh? That’s the reason she got her name, which is even more stupid, in her opinion. Back when her mom still had interests, she’d been rooting for a girl called Alexis Luton for Honey Queen—hence why she’d named her first daughter after her, Alexandra, not that Lex is a big fan of the name herself. Ironically, Alexis Luton hadn’t won—an older woman called Molly Shea had gotten the crown that year.

In fact, her mom had been pissed she went into labor two days before the pageant, because that meant she didn’t get to watch the show in person at the Starlight. She learned the news of her favored contestant's loss later in the newspaper. Lex always wondered whether that stupid situation surrounding her birth ever affected how much her mom seems to hate her.

Or if that happened once her mom got to know her.

The day after they’d dropped off their resume and letters of recommendation—one from Mr. Houston that he wrote out for them back in senior year before his wife died, one of the few things she’d made sure to keep safe, and the other hastily written by Frank on the day of Toy Zone’s official and permanent closure—they got a call back.

The man sounded… eccentric. Introduce himself as Professor Henry Hidgens, this year's director of the Honey Queen pageant. He went on a whole rant about how this was a side-gig, preparing for his true directorial debut of his own musical of which he even offered a role to Lex. They had cut him off, asking if they had the job or not.

She’d nearly cried tears of joy, eyes flicking over to the overdue bills sitting on the coffee table, when he’d confirmed that, yes she had.

That’s how it starts. The whole… thing. She’s working later tonight, since Hidgens had insisted she double check all the lighting rigs were correctly in place, and it’s not exactly like Lex is in a position to deny him of what he asks of her.

Lex checks her watch again—there's only half an hour to go, and still she finds herself jittery from the energy drink she’d downed in substitution of a real lunch. Hidgens is only a slightly better boss than Frank, because at least he hasn’t paid her late. Yet, at least. He still has time to prove himself a sh*ttier person to work for.

It’s not a big deal really, that she’s working late. Hannah is staying over at her friend's house tonight, for the second time this summer. It’d been a relief, truly, when she’d asked if she could stay at Daniel’s house. At first Lex had been nervous about it, but the kid and his mom seemed normal enough, and his mom had brought leftovers for Lex after she’d dropped Hannah off the first time.

Besides, having someone to watch Hannah during the summer whilst she’s off school is a lifesaver Lex didn’t know they’d needed. Before she had… Had people in her own life she could ask to do that, but this year has been a tough one, and it just keeps getting tougher as the months trudge on.

They climb the creaking staircase up to the control booth looking over the stage, the dusty and worn wooden planks groan beneath their combat boots. If Lex had any sense of self-preservation she might worry about the floor giving out right under her weight, but she’s too tired and too hungry to be worrying about stupid improbabilities like that. She’s found the best way to quell her anxiety is to exhaust herself too much to even care.

Her keys jingle around the chain as she detaches them from her belt and shoves the half-broken door open with a huff, and she steps inside, flicking the light switch. A single bulb suspended from the too low ceiling flickers on, casting the whole room in an ugly and bright yellow glow. Lucky for Lex, she’s short enough that she fits inside the cramped as hell room just fine. She can’t say the same for anyone else who might need to come up here.

Lex’s jobs as a general stagehand and ‘muscle’, as Hidgens had put it, is pretty easy all things considered. They don’t have to talk to people too much, unless they’re working during pageant rehearsals, and all the tech stuff is easy to figure out on their own. The light rigs are simple to configure, she just tightens them back into place and cheks they’re aimed at all the right marks on the stage. The kid that’s leading the lighting—Lex can’t remember her name—has left a helpful guide plastered on the top of the control panel for them to follow. Point is, this isn’t the type of task that will take them the whole thirty minutes left of their overtime to finish.

Unlike in retail, where Lex had always been rushing from place to place and serving person after person, working here at the Starlight has been… a lot of waiting around. Waiting on the actors, waiting on a delivery to arrive, waiting on her next directions from Hidgens, waiting for her shift to end. Lex kinda hates it, actually. Doing nothing at all makes her oddly nervous. Ansty, almost. She gets this weird thrum in her fingers, and an unexplainable urge to move or do something. Maybe it’s rooted in her fear of being useless. She isn’t all that interested in unpacking all of that right now.

She sits on the random office chair someone has shoved into the corner—a long time ago, if the dusty covering it is anything to go by—and rests her chin on her palm as she gazes down at the empty and darkened stage. Before working here, Lex had only been to the Starlight Theatre one time, back on a field trip during middle school. She’d had to forge her mom’s signature on the permission form just to get on the bus, and the trip itself had been a snorefest. The class had been given a tour of the stage and dressing rooms, and they’d done a weird improv class with some volunteer actors. Yeah, they hadn’t even watched a show in the theater.

Man. It sucks that the first actual show she’ll see here is the f*cking Honey Queen Pageant, or as much of it as she’ll see as she’s working backstage and up here. If she was more of a romantic she might claim this was her fate written in the stars. Destined by name and birth to forever be linked to the Honey Queen Pageant. Ugh. f*ck that. Lex isn’t a romantic by any means, and all she’ll call it what it truly is: f*cking bullsh*t.

The contestants they’ve met so far just a week after sign-ups is enough to make them bristle, just at the memory of them. Most of them are rich, stuck up, and so entitled it could rot your teeth. One girl had thrown a coffee at their head the other day because it ‘didn’t have enough hazelnut syrup and no whipped cream, you coffee-ruining c*nt.’ So… Super sweet group of people, huh?

Lex is half-dozing, trying their best to blink herself awake, when a shadow crosses the stage. They jump and rub her eyes, worried they might be seeing things, but no, she isn’t. It’s just a human person. Lex recognises her actually, even in the low light. They’d seen her around the other day, lingering around the theater—a contestant, obviously. But not just any contestant. This is Hatchetfield High’s prom queen of 2018, valedictorian, head of the drama club and school council, Alice Woodward.

Why she might be here so late, Lex has not a clue. In fact, they’re pretty certain no one is technically supposed to be here after lock up—besides themself and Hidgens, obviously. Not that Lex is gonna go out her way to stop her—she ain’t not snitch and is too tired to even bother.

Instead she stays rooted in her seat and watches. Watches as Alice Woodward drifts across the stage, all elegant and floaty as ever, and lands in the center of the stage. Her hands fidget with the microphone and the stand it sits on, it’s not on, but she holds it as if it is anyway. Back in Junior year, Lex remembers Alice being cast as the lead in the musical the school put on that year. She doesn’t remember many of the details, or even what show it had been, and she’d never bothered to go see it, but the girl’s face had been plastered everywhere for a good while. On photos and posters covering bulletin boards and school halls. No one around their age could forget Alice Woodward—most of Hatchetfield deemed her an angel.

To Lex she’s just some kid she happened to go to high school with. They never shared classes past Freshman Year—Alice was too smart and Lex didn’t try hard enough—and they never shared friends. They never shared much of anything. They were strangers, really. Still, Lex watches, and Alice sings.

It’s probably her talent for the pageant. Her admittedly wonderful voice. Lex doesn’t recognize the song, it wouldn’t surprise her if it was some theater song, but it’s… good. Alice’s voice is good . Which shouldn’t be shocking, considering the fact Alice had always been cast in great roles in school productions. Still, Lex finds herself almost… transfixed. Lex may have never noticed Alice all that much back in high school, but she sure does f*cking notice her now.

And, like, Lex has eyes, alright? Sure. Alice Woodward is hot. What’s new? She was prom queen and homecoming queen for a reason. This isn’t anything new—and neither is Lex finding a girl or two hot.

A sudden embarrassment flushes over Lex. They feel like a major creep, watching Alice like this in such a… a vulnerable moment. Without her knowing too. This is supposed to be a private practice, it’s almost intimate.

The song is over before it’s even really begun. Or maybe time passed quicker than Lex had realized. Alice edges back across the stage, less elegant now and more tense, and she returns the mic back to the stand. Her shoulders are held tight, head hung low as she drifts towards the edge of the stage and sits down facing the audience.

Lex glances back down at her watch. Just five more minutes until her shift ends, but what’s the harm in leaving a little earlier? Truthfully, Lex wants to get the f*ck out of here before Alice realises they’ve been up here watching her. She jumps to her feet, intent to sneak down the stairs and out the back exit. In her hurry she nearly hits her head on one of the beams screwed along the ceiling, only just ducking in time—she falls forward, her hands slapping against the control panel and flicking one of the spotlights to life. The spot life aimed to… stage left. Where Alice is currently sitting.

sh*t.

Alice startles, jumping and her head snapping up to the booth. She squints, covering her face from the sharp glare of the spotlight, and she must see the panicked movements of Lex as she attempts to turn off the light. She must.

Lex takes two steps at a time as they dart down the creaking and winding stairs and they land backstage, finding enough bravery, or stupidity, to peek around the edge of the curtain. Alice hasn’t moved from her spot and she still stares up at the booth, tilting her head to see more of the shadow she’d obviously seen.

She could just leave, Lex thinks. They could sneak out the back, like they intended to, and Alice will never know who it was up there. Lex won’t have to deal with… with this. And yet, something keeps her from moving away from the curtain. She rolls her eyes at herself, clenching her fist around the red fabric, when Alice shivers and—

Double sh*t.

She’s crying. Alice Woodward is crying in here.

f*ck.

Double— Triple— Whatever, f*ck.

Lex doesn’t have to deal with this, does she? This isn’t her responsibility. They don’t even know this girl, not really. And f*ck, she doubts Alice knows her either.

But…

What kind of total bitch would she be if she just left?

A heavy sigh rumbles in her throat and Lex steps on onto the stage. Alice whips her head around to the footsteps, a puzzle solving behind the girl’s eyes as she connects Lex to the figure in the lighting booth. Lex stops, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“You good, kid?” she asks, even though they’re the same age. Maybe Alice is older than her—she probably is, considering how late into the year they are already.

Alice wipes at her tears with the back of her hands, and Lex wonders how someone can look so pretty even when they’ve been crying. Does she have no-run mascara or something? “I’m fine,” she says, shifting around to face Lex. She glances around. “So… You saw the whole…?” Alice gestures vaguely, her face pulling into a grimace.

“Uh, I wasn’t, like, creeping on you or anything,” Lex says with a shrug and they scratch at the back of their neck, unsure what to do with their hands but too restless to keep them buried in their pockets. “I was just sorting some stuff out with the lights and… and you happened to be here.” An odd sort of silence fills the room, and Lex scuffs her boot against the stages, her cheeks twitching at the awkwardness of it all. Finding some confidence deep within herself, Lex holds out her hand for Alice to take, who furrows her brows in response. “Your stuff is good from what I saw, Woodward,” she says, and she shakes her hand, hoping Alice will get the hint. “I don’t know what you were crying about, but uh… You shouldn’t sell yourself short, short-stuff.”

Lex has no idea where the stupid nickname comes from, and she immediately wishes she could take it back. Alice laughs, though, and takes Lex’s offered hand, letting Lex pull her to her feet.

“Thanks… Lex.” Yeah, it’s weird. They both know it. They’ve never met officially before now—at least not to Lex’s recollection. Never even had a conversation, and yet they know one another's names. “And you don’t have to justify yourself being here. If anything, I’m the one who shouldn’t be here, huh?”

“Got that right,” Lex agrees with a small laugh, and the awkwardness easily dissipates as soon as it was here. Her hands slip back into her pockets and she co*cks her head, a sly smile on her face. “You know, really, I should be kicking you out—or calling the cops on you.”

“Hah. Like Lex Foster’s ever going to call the cops.”

She has a good point. Lex isn’t sure there are many things that piss them off as much as cops. The countless times she got arrested on bullsh*t charges, when they knew the real reason was ‘cause she’s poor. Trailer trash to be kicked around, tossed aside. The kind of person who loiters, rather than exists.

“Anyway, I should probably get out of here,” Alice says, picking up her bag from the floor—Lex hadn’t even realized she’d brought that in with her—and turns to leave. “It was stupid to come here so late.”

“If you really wanna do private practice I could ask Hidgens about it,” Lex blurts out, and Alice stops. Glances back. She’s clearly confused, and so is Lex, to be honest. “I mean, um, maybe we could keep the theater’s open a little later for rehearsal. I don’t mind working late and uh… Yeah.”

Alice’s lips part—and Lex is decidedly not looking at them. Not at her pink lipstick, or the way she struggles to find her words. No at all. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Not for you, short-stuff,” she rolls her eyes, as if the idea is ludicrous. As if she hadn’t suggested it just for the benefit of Alice. “The later I work the more they pay me, so…”

“Right. Yeah. That would be…” Alice trails off for a moment. “Wait—I’m taller than you!”

Lex can’t help but grin, shifting the topic of conversation back to the issue at hand. “Do you want me to talk to Hidgens or not?”

“Oh—yeah. Yes, that would be great. Thanks, Lex.”

She’s gone before Lex can reply, rushing out the same back exit Lex had planned to sneak out of just a few minutes ago. Lex sighs, cracking her neck and tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. They wonder why the hell they just offered to spend more of her pressure time working. Or why they’ve offered to basically watch Alice f*cking Woodward rehearse every night.

Stupid hot girls and her stupid brain.

Quadruple f*ck.

“Did you get us the good stuff yet?” Lex asked, meeting Ethan by his locker. A rare occasion, considering how often he skipped school to f*ck around with his ‘boys.’ Lex almost rolled her eyes at the thought—how Ethan insisted on calling his dickhe*d friends his ‘boys.’

He shook his head, slowly closing the door of his locker and leaning against it. His hair is short—shorter than it is now—back when he rocked the short look. “Not yet,” he said with a sigh, a half shrug with one shoulder. “Y’know, I was actually thinking—”

“Never a good sign,” Lex interrupted, barely a mutter under her breath.

“—that maybe you could get it this time?” he continued, as if they hadn’t said anything at all. Lex opened their mouth, but Ethan spoke again before they could object, “see Deb and Ziggs aren’t my biggest fans right now… Nothing happened but uh… I think they might be more receptive to the charm of Alexandra Foster, eh?”

“First, babe, don’t call me that,” she said with an eye roll, unable to stop the small smirk that pulled at her lips at Ethan’s soft huff of laughter, “and second, what charm? I’m not charming, Ethan.”

“What? Sure you are—you scored me!”

Lex patted her hand to his chest, shaking her head, “I didn’t ‘score you’ with my charm. I think the words most people would use to describe me are: grating, irritable and rude.”

Ethan let out a dejected noise, holding his hands up. “What? Babe, don’t say that.”

“We both know it’s true.”

Instead of objecting further Ethan pulled a wad of cash from the pocket of his leather jacket, pushing it into her hand. “Just talk to Deb? Please?”

It’s not like Lex was ever really gonna say no. She just couldn’t resist Ethan’s puppy-dog eyes—God, the thought made her feel sick—and she snatched the money from him. “Fine,” she got out through gritted teeth, shoving the money into her inner jacket pocket, glancing around the hallway as if anyone cares what the likes of Ethan ‘Lazy Layabout’ Green and Alexandra ‘Anger Issues’ Foster are doing. “But you owe me,” she said, pointing a finger to his chest.

Ethan laughed and held up his hands, raised a single brow in that coy way of his. “Owe you? I’m paying for the weed, babe!”

“Yeah, and now you’re gonna throw in some snacks and we’ll be even.”

Her stomach growled at the thought. She’d substituted dinner with sleep last night, letting Hannah have what was left of the pasta they’d been living off of for the past month. Ethan just winked and leaned forward, pressing a soft, almost too delicate for Lex, kiss to her cheek and shoving her by the shoulder a moment later.

“Whatever—just go find Deb?”

“Where even is she?”

Ethan shrugged. No help at all. Lex stalked off, sneaking through the gym and out the back. That was the most likely place to find the self-named ‘Smoke Club.’ Bunch of losers. How lame do you have to be to make smoking weed your whole goddamn personality?

There’s a small alcove just past school grounds—Lex slipped under the small break in the chain-link fence and stumbled down the steep hill, running head first right into who she was looking for. Deb, Ziggs, Danny, and the girl Lex can never remember the name of, all stared at her, sitting on their jackets in a circle under the covers of brush and split concrete. If it weren’t for how obviously they stood out, not at all inconspicuous, then the general smog around them was a good indicator as to where they hung out.

“What do you want, Lex?” Deb asked as she blew a heavy puff of smoke, raising her brows and looking at Lex with an edge of disgust. “Don’t tell me you're here for your dickhe*d boyfriend…”

“Uh, for your information, I’m here for me ,” Lex said and she pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket. “I’m my own person—I thought you of all people would be a big believer in all that bullsh*t. You know, rah-rah women’s rights and sh*t.”

Deb said nothing to that. Didn’t even look apologetic nor offended. She rolled her eyes, handing off her spliff to Ziggs. “Okay, what do you want?” Deb stands and brushes the speckles of dirt and leaves on her jeans, fixing her beanie on her head.

“The usual.”

“Ethan Green’s usual?”

“Deb, are you gonna take my money or not?”

For a long moment Deb stared at her, and then snatched the money from her. “It’ll be in your locker after school.”

“Right. Thanks.” Lex stalked off—see, this was exactly why she didn’t like Deb. Supposedly all against authority, and yet managed to be the most uptight stoner Lex had ever met.

f*cking asshole.

A beam of light creeps through the half collapsed blinds barely clinging to the window, waking a disgruntled, and still very tired, Lex foster. She sits up with her blanket wrapped around her, wiping the sleep from her eyes with one hand, blindly reaching up for her phone with the other. She stretches, the blanket falling from her shoulders and pooling around her waist., and her eyes drift up the screen. Her background is a photo of herself and Hannah when they were younger—12 and 7, she thinks—grinning at the camera and each holding an ice cream. Hazelnut and chocolate for herself, strawberry for Hannah.

She checks the time.

sh*t.

Not only is she going to be late for work if she doesn’t move her ass, but Hannah will be late for school.

Lex digs through the piles of clothing scattered around her room, the cramped space only just beating out her old shared bedroom in the trailer. After sniffing a few shirts she throws on the first one that doesn’t stink and her favorite pair of jeans, jotting down a note on her hand to do laundry tonight. Five minutes later her teeth are brushed with strawberry flavored toothpaste, courtesy of Hannah, and her backpack is filled with everything she needs. She snacks on a half-eaten granola bar that had been sitting on her dresser for the past two days and follows it with the rest of her monster can from the night before. Lex winces, trying her best to ignore how it was warm and the taste clashed with the artificial not-really-strawberry flavor lingering on her tongue.

Down the hall there’s the quiet hum of the TV. Lex hates how, even now, she can recognise the voices of local news anchors. Dan Reynolds and Donna Dagit, all because her mom watched it every day . Hurrying down the hall she spots Hannah sitting on the floor in front of the TV, and an empty bowl balanced on the arm of the sofa.

“Hannah,” she says, grabbing her sister's bag from the hook, as well as her own vaguely clean jacket. “It’s time to go, we’ll be late.”

She zips up Hannah’s bag and shuts off the TV with a click she switches off the TV, and pulls Hannah up by her arm.

“Here.” She passes Hannah her bag. “I, uh… I didn’t have time to make you lunch for today so…” Lex reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out what she hoped was enough. She opens her palm to a clump of dust, two pennies and a five dollar bill. “Take this,” she says, picking the dust from the pile and dropping the money in Hannah’s hand, “It should be enough.”

Hannah just sighs, and is silent the whole way to Hatchetfield High. She slips out the car before Lex can call out a goodbye. Luckily Hatchetfield High and the Starlight are both close enough that Lex makes it one time, mostly. Okay fine, like, five minutes late—clipping on the little name badge Hidgens asked her to wear and she slips in through the back door and pretends to have been hard at work the whole time.

She’s rummaging through a box of props, most of them being sparkly leis and various, multi-coloured fedoras. No wonder this box was shoved all the way back here, dusty to the touch. Who the f*ck wants to wear this sh*t for the Honey Queen Pageant?

“Lex!” Hidgens hurries up to her, a flurry of notes in his hands and a couple scattering across the floor. “Thank Sondheim I found you! We’re in need of a coffee run for a couple of our stars.” He hands off a slip of paper, filled with coffee orders. Lex holds back a grimace as she skims. The fact people can even afford all this extra stuff is beyond her. One of them is for Hidgens himself— Strawberry Frappe extra sugar. God. These people are like aliens sometimes. Theater kids, huh… Lex considers herself lucky at times to have been too busy to fall into this weird culture. “Use the company card.”

By company card, Hidgens means his own credit card. Which Lex will never understand, by the way. Splurging all your money on some prissy honey queen contestants—most of them void of any talent, or any personality. Still, she nods, skimming the list one more time when she see:

Latte with whipped cream and hazelnut syrup - A.W

There’s only one person that could be. It reminds Lex of the night before, and she asks before she can think, “oh hey Hidgens,” he pauses, frozen mid-motion in a way that would be way more comical if Lex wasn’t so exhausted. “One of the contestants was wondering if we could keep the theater open a little later—you know, so they have, like, more privacy for rehearsals that fit in her schedule.”

He co*cks his head, brows raised. “Which contestant?”

“...Alice Woodward.”

Hidgens smiles, which makes Lex think maybe Alice is one of his better liked contestants. “Well, if we were to keep the theater open we’d need a staff member to supervise,” he explains, any subtlety he’s attempting failed. Lex already knows what he’s trying to say. She’d accepted that probability the moment she’d offered to ask for Alice. She still doesn’t know why she did it. That’s something… to be unpacked later. “And I certainly can’t do it, since I tend to use my nightly inspiration to work on my musical…”

“I get it,” she says with a shrug and an eye roll, “I’ll do it. Just wanted to… you know, get your permission or something.”

He narrows his gaze—maybe even he can sense her previous rebellious streak, despite never knowing her back then. Most of that has died out now, purely due to being way too f*cking busy to pull any stunts anymore. Plus, Ethan used to bring out that side of her and… Well. That ship has sailed now.

“You’re sure? You’ll only be paid half hours…”

She nods, and adds, “yeah, whatever. Now, do you want me to get your…” she glances back down, “Strawberry Frappe with extra sugar, or not?”

“Yes, yes! Go!”

Holding back a laugh, Lex hurries off, ready to get into another fight at the line in Beanies. If it was up to them, they’d just got the quieter Starbucks across the street, but various contestants had insisted —their word, not Lex’s—that their coffee comes from the hell-pit of a coffee shop that is Beanies.

Of course, because she’d been too busy helping Hannah with her homework, she never never got the chance to finish the essay Mr. Seymour assigned in English. Not that Lex ever put much effort into the class, but detentions are one of those things she can’t deal with in her already packed schedule. She often managed to avoid them by scraping by with the bare minimum—essays filled with dog sh*t, but at least they were done.

Last night was a rough one. Hannah couldn’t sleep—Lex had been so weak from not eating anything all day that she’d gotten bitchy. She ended up falling asleep sitting on the floor of their bedroom, Hannah curled in her lap, and any thoughts of an essay on f*cking Macbeth had been disgarded.

Not that she was going to explain any of that to Mr. Seymour. The last thing she needed was a school counselor, or worse CPS, poking around the trailer. They would take Hannah—Lex would be dragged away from her home, only to be dumped out on the street in five months' time when she turned eighteen. The detention was the best scenario all in all.

Ethan had picked Hannah up for her and covered the first half hour of her shift at Toy Zone—Frank wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t like he’d had any other options to fill in Lex’s place either.

By the time detention finished Lex darted out the door and bee-lined straight to her lock. Grab the weed from Deb, get in her car, get to Toy Zone and don’t f*ck up anything else today. Except, when she’d arrived at her locker, she didn’t find an empty hallway.

No she found Deb’s prissy, future prom queen, star of the theater department, f*cking angel of Hatchetfield High girlfriend, Alice Woodward, sniffing around her locker.

“Can I help you?” she’d asked, starting the other girl enough that she’d let out a soft yelp.

Alice froze, hand pressed to the small slits in the locker door, and she just stared. Mouth opened as if she’d wanted to say something, but had no clue what to actually say. Lex stared back, brows raised in question. She didn’t think herself all that intimidating to most people—but to pretty girls like Woodward, Lex was sure she was. Her arms crossed over her chest, eyes darting from the hand f*cking around with her locker and back to Alice’s face.

“I don’t have all day—what are you doing?”

“Uh…” Alice sputtered, and as she pulled her hand away, a thud echoed from inside the locker. “Deb was busy so she asked me to uh… Drop off her orders—if you know what I mean.”

Huh. So now Deb was getting her girlfriend to her dirty work. Seems like they’re in the same boat—Lex and Alice. Not really, actually, because Lex doubts the last meal Alice Woodward ate was plain pasta out of a tub two days ago. Or that Alice Woodward punched a hole in the wall of her trailer as she sobbed—Alice didn’t live in a trailer—because she’d failed a math test she didn’t even really f*cking care about. But it still hurt to see the F on there. Because Lex didn’t care—she really f*cking didn’t—but she’d at least tried that time. And if you try and get nothing, then what’s the point of even trying at all?

“Well, are you gonna give it to me or…?” Lex holds out her hand, eyebrow raised at Alice. Her fingers anxiously dance across the small bag, eyes darting across the hall—as if anyone would catch them. As if anyone cares why prissy perfect Alice Woodward is talking to future dropout Lex Foster. As if anyone will notice Alice is holding an overpriced baggie of sh*tty weed in her hand.

Alice shoved it at Lex, right into her chest, with a “sorry!” She sprinted down the hall—already far off down the hallway. Lex sighed, rolling her eyes and stuffing the weed into her inside pocket.

Freak.

They sought out Alice in the small breaks between rehearsals, slipping her a note about Hidgens giving them permission. She’d beamed at Lex as they stalked away, and Lex bit their tongue. f*cking pretty girls.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” she asks, sitting on the back steps of the Starlight’s fire exit. A lit cigarette rests between her fingers, and she scuffs the heel of her boot against the concrete as she talks. “I don’t want to intrude—”

“Lex, really, it’s okay,” Mrs. Emison insists, the ruckus of children behind her voice. “Daniel is having the time of his life having friends over—and Hannah is such a sweet girl. Really, it’s not trouble at all. I know how it can be on your own.”

She can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves her lungs. Sure, she still feels awful for dumping Hannah off onto a woman she’s met once and only really spoken to over the phone. But working late is helping them get by a little easier, even if it’s only half her usual hourly pay, and Lex doesn’t want to break her promise to Alice.

“Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no trouble!” she reassures Lex once again. “I should go—otherwise I’ll burn dinner! See you tomorrow, Lex.”

“Bye, Mrs. Emison.”

It’s great that Hannah finally has a friend. Lex hadn’t let it show, but she was getting concerned. At first it hadn’t been much of an issue. Hannah had Webby—and Lex and Ethan. She was happy as a kid in her situation could be. But as she got older—still talking to Webby when Lex had long since grown out of it. Never finding her Ethan, in a way. Lex couldn’t help but worry.

Daniel Emison is a good kid. A nice kid.

They snuff out their cigarettes and slip back inside. The Starlight is mostly dark by now—the back exit being the only door still unlocked. Lex hadn’t spoken to Alice after giving her the note, so really she could be anywhere. But, it’s probably safe to assume she’s back in the same stage she’d snuck into last time.

Alice has a guitar this time—the case laying open on the stage in front of her—when Lex lets herself into the stage, ducking into the back row and leaning back in one of the chairs. The lights haven’t been changed from the rehearsals earlier today, just a single spotlight, bright and white in the center of the stage. Her fingers dance in a nervous sort of way as she tunes the guitar, unsure and antsy. Which Lex doesn’t at all get. Wouldn’t you get used to this after spending years on stage?

She pays Lex no mind as she begins, a gentle strum of a melody. It’s not one Lex recognises, but when she sings it’s a little more familiar. It’s the same song she’d sung the other night—just as beautiful. Her voice is like that of a siren—and Lex can’t help the way it seems to draw her in, she leans forward in her seat. Captured. Or enraptured maybe. A sombre song.

Though, Alice does seem more confident than she’d been the other night at least. Her back straighter, voice less shaky—not that Lex had even noticed that it’d been shaky until now, hearing her sing so crystal clear. Lex still wonders why Alice even feels the need to practice alone here, so late at night.

Why would someone so talented subject themself to the trashy small town pettiness of the Honey Queen festival pageant? Why does she want to be the Honey Queen? It doesn’t seem like something Alice would need. Or want. She got all of that pointless praise back in high school. Did she really need it now?

It’s over, and Lex wants to hear it again. The song. Hear Alice sing again. She could sit here forever in this chair, listening to Alice Woodward sing that same song over and over again.

But, she can’t. Lex stands and meets Alice on the stages—watches as she gathers up her things again. “Not bad, Woodward. I didn’t know you played guitar.”

A small laugh leaves Alice’s lips and she glances up from where she’s crouched on the floor. “Thanks,” she says, standing to her full height, sweeping hand through her hair. A deep chestnut color—the ends a light blondish color. “I can play a couple instruments, I took lessons as a kid. What about you?” She crouches down to return her guitar to the case.

Lex dodges the question, instead asking, “what song is that? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I’d hope you haven’t,” Alice says with a small smile, and she glances up at her. “I wrote the song,” she adds, voice softer.

“Oh.” Can this girl get any more goddamn talented? “Cool. I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Woodward.”

Alice laughs again, clipping the case shut and lifting the strap over her shoulder. “Thanks again—you know, for getting me some extra time to rehearse. Really, you’ve done so much for me.”

“f*ck off.”

“You have!”

They end at an impasse. Clearly Alice is ready to leave for the night, fidgeting with the strap of her guitar case. And maybe Lex will regret this, and maybe it’s weird and out of the blue, but still she asks, “alright, well, wanna do something for me?” She’s not quite ready to return to her sad little apartment just to sleep, ready for her next shift tomorrow. Alice raises her brows, curious. “You’re twenty-one, right?”

“...yeah. Why?”

“Wanna get a drink?”

They end up at some sh*tty dive bar in the middle of downtown, hidden away in one of the back tables, lit by hardly any light at all. Alice’s guitar case and Lex’s button-filled backpack fill two other empty seats across from them. Lex drinks a beer—Alice has some weird co*cktail Lex can’t even remember the name of.

“So, why d’you wanna be Honey Queen?” Lex asks, unable to help her curiosity. Most of the Honey Queens Lex had seen were sad losers with nothing better to do than beg for the approval of their sh*tty small town. Alice doesn’t seem to fit that description. At least, Lex doesn’t think she does.

“I need to get the f*ck out of Hatchetfield,” she says with a groan, though the sharpness of her words is undercut by the dainty way she sips on her bright pink, fruity drink. “Sooner rather than later.”

Lex takes a swig of her beer and nods, “don’t we all.”

“Where do you wanna head off to?”

“California,” Lex says, flicking her thumb back and forth over the lip of the bottle. “Hannah and I have been dreaming about it for… years now, probably.”

Alice smiles and asks, her straw still in her mouth. “How is Hannah?”

It’s weird, the way she asks it. As if they’re old friends. As if they know one another well, and she knows Hannah. Lex doesn’t doubt that Alice knows of Hannah as ‘the poor Foster kid that got dropped on her head as a baby’.

Which never happened, for the record.

“Good.” That’s not the whole truth. A better word would be fine. She has trouble at school, Lex doesn't think she’s doing enough for her. How everything went down with Ethan has made things worse, too. It’s as if there’s some… barrier between them. Hannah hardly says a word to her besides what’s required, and even getting that is a struggle sometimes. “She’s in her moody teenager mode now, so…”

Alice nods in understanding and lifts her glass, clinking it against Lex’s bottle. “Ah, so she’s rebelling against you, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“God, I was such a brat back then,” she muses with a soft chuckle, shaking her head, eyes somewhere else. “I’m sure my dad would say I still am—but I like to think I’ve grown up a little at least.”

“You still live with him?” Lex asks, a weird compulsion since she doesn’t know the man. “Your dad, I mean.”

Well, she knows of him. Most people have run into Bill Woodward—always at every PTA meeting and school run event. Dropping off cookies or volunteering his free time. Not that Lex crossed paths with him all that often, he probably attended more of her mandatory school events than she did.

A soft affirmative noise leaves Alice lips as she sips. There’s a flash of hesitation in her eyes before she asks, “do you still live with your…?” Alice trails off. Refuses to finish the sentence.

It brings back the memory of that week when her mom died. It was… A week for sure.

They’d just gotten into a bad fight—Lex and Hannah. Looking back she’d think it was petty and stupid, but at the time it had felt like the end of the world. They were still living in the sh*tty trailer—sharing a room, which meant Lex had banished herself to the couch that night.

She’d flopped face first onto the sofa, too exhausted to move after a long day at Toy Zone and unwilling to disturb Hannah, she’d f*cked the kid up enough. Lex remembers being ready to just pass out right there in her clothes, but that thought had made her shudder. Reminded her too much of her mom, and Lex had forced herself to stand up with the intent of finding a decent distraction.

There had been stuff she needed to do anyway, and she’d been midway through cleaning up—folding laundry if she could remember right—when there was a loud knock on the brittle trailer door. She had ignored it at first, assuming it to be her drunk next door neighbour who always wanted to bum a cigarette.

Another, more forceful, knock had Lex chucking the shirt she’d been holding back onto the sofa. It had landed haphazardly atop the pile. She swung the door open, ready to give this piece of sh*t a piece of her mind for knocking so late at night when there’s a kid living here trying to sleep. Her mind had blanked at the sight of the uniform—a cop. At her door. Lex had straightened up, tried to fix her shirt in a poor attempt to appear presentable.

“Uh…” is all that had left her mouth. She’d been working hard at the time to keep her record squeaky clean, since her child record had been sealed away already.

“Good evening,” the cop had said, notepad in hand. “I’m Officer Bailey from the HFPD. Are you… Alexandra Foster?”

“Yeah. That’s me.” She’d looked him up and down, and she recognized him. Officer Bailey had never arrested her, but he’d been at the station at the same time as her, and Ethan. “Can I help you?”

“Can I come in?”

As much as she didn’t want a cop in her home, Lex had been wary of risking making anything worse. One thing she’d learned? Try your best not to piss off a cop. Especially when they’re at your front door. She’d glanced down the hall to her and Hannah’s bedroom, and nodded, stepping back. The cop squeezed past her, and she’d asked, “am I under arrest or something? ‘Cause I swear whatever it is, I didn’t do it this time.”

“No, no. I’m not arresting you.” Officer Bailey had urged her to sit down, taking a seat in the squeaky arm chair across from it. “You might need to… take a seat first.”

“Okay…” Lex did as she was told, pushing the pile of clothes aside. After her fight with Hannah, she hadn’t had much fight left in her that night.

The cop squinted down at the paper, then looked back up at her. “Your mother is Pamela Jean Foster, correct?”

Great, she’d thought, it’s about her f*cking mom. Of course it was. She hadn’t even been surprised. “Yep, that’s her. She isn’t home right now, so—”

“How long has it been since you last saw her?”

That had seemed like a weird question, even at the time. Even weirder when Lex had realized it had been three days since her mom had been gone. She’d assumed it was another bender, or she was staying with one of her ‘suitors’ as she called them. Lex called them asshole, dickhole, and other variations of hole. “Monday night, I guess.”

“Has she been home since?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been working. Why? Have you found her somewhere?”

“She’s at the station right now.”

A stab of fear pulsed in her chest. “Oh, f*ck.” Worries had flashed through her mind—already planning on how she’d scrape together enough money to pay her bail, or cover massive amounts of property damage. “Was it another bar fight? I swear to God I’ll kick her ass. She promised me—”

“That’s not it.” Bailey reached into his pocket, holding something out for her to see. “Do you recognise these?”

“Her keys.” Lex had recognised the keychain attached to it first—she’d made it for her mom back in second grade. Despite everything, she’d never taken it off. Lex takes them, holding them in the palm of her hand. “Why do you have these? What did she do?”

Thoughts of a crashed car had flashed in her mind—as well as a ton of debt.

“I need you to come down to the station.”

She’d furrowed her brows, clenching the keys tight in her hand. The metal had stabbed into her skin, near drawing blood. “Wha—why? What did she—?”

“Miss Foster,” he interrupts, standing. “We need you to come and… identify her body.”

She called Ethan to watch Hannah—be there if she woke up in the night. The drive to the station was close to vomit inducing. Lex kept the window down, just in case the urge to hurl took over at some point.

It’d been different to the other times she’d been in a police car. Arrested—for loitering, for vandalism, theft, drug dealing, assaulting an officer. Not that any of those had happened for a while by that point. Still, she couldn’t shake the memory.

Officer Bailey explained the body they found had no ID—that’s why they couldn’t be sure. He kept glancing over at her. As if she might have started crying or something. Lex had debated telling she’d hated her mom’s guts—but he didn’t need her life story.

Besides, it was just a little comforting to know someone cared. Even if it was his job.

They arrive at the station and she’d stepped into the cold, and like Hatchetfield always was it’d been cold in November. Lex regretted not bringing her jacket. Not just to fight the chill, but for somewhere to hide her hands too.

The reality of the situation dawned on her as she’d been led through the station. Her mom. Dead. Her mom.

Lex hadn’t been sure what to feel.

Sad seemed like the obvious answer.

Relieved felt more realistic.

Neither were right.

Plus, maybe there was a chance it wasn’t her. Maybe Pamela Jean Foster just lost her keys and her car—she was still out on the town, probably getting black out drunk.

Officer Bailey and a woman in a lab coat sat her down on a sofa. The room had been softly lit—walls painted blue. It all served to make her even more sick.

“We’re going to show you a photo,” the woman had explained, “it’s up to you to identify if it’s your mother or not.”

Lex had nodded, and they proceeded. Officer Bailey handed the woman a file and she reached inside, pulling out a printed photo and handing it over. Lex rubbed her hand against it before flipping it over.

It’d been a photo of a woman Lex has hated her whole life. They’d asked Lex if she was okay, but she hadn’t been listening. She didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to care about this.

Lex hated how much she f*cking cared.

“That's… it’s her.” Is what she’d said, throat dry and voice cracking, and it all felt a little lacklustre. Lex imagined it would be like in those crime dramas, where they roll out the corpse on a steel table and the family scream and cry it mustn't be possible. Except, this is real life, and it seemed even the HFPD are more sensitive than that. And Lex knew in a town like this, with a mother like hers, this was always possible.

Inevitable.

“We’re so sorry for your loss Miss Foster,” the woman said, and Lex hated that she sounded sincere—so sincere it bordered on another level of dishonesty. The woman had hugged Lex. It was awkward and unnatural, but at the time Lex couldn't bring herself to move away.

Officer Bailey took the photo from her as, tucking the photo into the file, and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“We do have to notify you that there are some… damages to be paid,” he’d said and he gave Lex the file, where she really got a look at her mother’s condition for the first time.

It was… horrifying. Just like a death is supposed to be in Hatchetfield, she thought. Torn to shreds.

Her hands shook around the paper as she’d asked, “how bad is it?” A new wave of sickness washed over her—the cost for a new car, whatever else had been destroyed running through her mind.

The woman and Officer Bailey shared a look, and then a nod, and she’d squeezed Lex’s freehand hand.

“Just under seven thousand dollars,” Officer Bailey had said.

Her stomach had dropped.

“Seven thousand?” Lex stuttered in disbelief, grabbing the photo of her mom. She’d shoved it and the file towards the two of them. “Look at her!” she’d yelled, “my mom is dead and you want me to pay seven f*cking thousand dollars?”

“Miss Foster, you need to calm down.” The woman had pressed down on her shoulder and Lex shoved her away.

“This entire police force is a joke.”

“Miss Foster–” Officer Bailey started, grabbing her arm.

By then any coherent thought Lex could have was gone at that point. Gone as she’d yanked her arm away from Officer Bailey. Or shoved off the woman’s hands grabbing at her.

Or swung a hard punch right into Officer Bailey’s face.

Two hours ago she’d been worrying about dirty laundry and a fight with Hannah.

Two hours ago she hadn’t been sitting in a jail cell at the Hatchetfield Police Station the night her mom died. And somehow, it made perfect sense that her night ended like that.

This is Hatchetfield. And Hatchetfield never changes.

“ My mom died last November.”

Immediate regret washes over Alice’s face, her mouth opening and closing. Clearly she doesn’t know what to say, and she settles on, “oh.”

“Don’t look so sad, Woodward—I danced on her grave.”

“Wait for real?”

“What? No, I was kidding. I’m not that f*cked up.”

Plus, you know, her mom didn’t even have a grave.

“I don’t know, that could have been pretty cool.”

That pulls a laugh from Lex, uncontrollably. Tears fill her eyes—because, yeah, dancing on her sh*tty asshole of a mom’s grave could have been cool. “You’re wilder than I thought, Woodward,” she says, returning to herself. “In high school I thought you were all prissy and perfect.”

“Me?” Alice asks, as if the idea of that is totally unbelievable. “Hah, no, I wish.”

“Psh, come on. Straight A’s, in every school production, star of the drama club and the soccer team—homecoming and prom queen. You couldn’t walk anywhere in Hatchetfield High without seeing your face, bitch. Don’t be so humble.”

Alice flushes at that, and she rolls her eyes. Clearly still not totally believing Lex’s words. “Thanks, but I don’t feel all that awesome—as you could probably tell.”

“Hey, what’d I say?” Lex nudges her shin with her foot, leaning forward on her hand. “Stop selling yourself short. See, I don’t know sh*t about performing or music or nothin’, but that little show you put on the Starlight tonight seemed pretty entrancing to me.”

“Really?”

“Do you take me as the type of person who’d lie to make some random girl feel better?”

Alice is quiet for a long moment, then sighs. “I guess not,” she says, and she stares at Lex—her eyes flicker across Lex’s face.

Lex has not a clue what it is she might be looking for. There’s this oddly blissful look on her face, totally calm and chill. Her cheeks are flushed a pale pink and strands of her hair are stuck to her forehead due to the oppressive heat of the bar, and her once pristine and perfect sweater-vest and shirt are rumpled with wrinkles and damp from the humid air. Lex stares back at Alice, doubting she looks as nice. She’s f*cking tired, and a little buzzed, and likely affected even worse by the rising temperature of the packed room.

“What type of person are you, then?” she asks next, leaning back in her chair. “Who is Alexandra Foster? I feel like I barely know you.”

That’s because you don’t.

Lex doesn’t say that, she purses her lips and shuts her eyes. She’s done countless icebreakers and introductions, and yet she never has any idea what to say in situations like this.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh come on.” Alice nudges them, like they’re trying to be difficult on purpose. Lex isn’t, truly. “There must be something you can tell me. What do you do for fun?”

Fun…

f*ck. When was the last time Lex had fun?

It’s a rhetorical question, really. A question she knew the answer to before she even really asked it. Back when she was Ethan. He was the ‘fun one.’ He took Hannah on fun day trips—to arcades and theme parks, to the pond to feed ducks. Most days she was busy. Working, or studying, or doing both at once. Rushing from work to an exam, from the exam home and cramming in another practice paper, then following after Ethan and Hannah once they got home—picking up after them, cooking them dinner, preparing Hannah’s lunch, then going to bed early before she could even really ask how their day was.

Sometimes Lex would go with them, but she always felt that she brought the mood down. Too tired to run after Hannah and having to ask Ethan to play with her—in a bad mood from work and picking fights for no reason at all, still reading over her notes even whilst they’re out because she can’t afford to spend money on a f*cking test just to flunk it.

What’s the point of trying if you fail anyway?

The truth is Lex doesn’t have fun. When she’s not working she’s sleeping, and when she’s not sleeping she’s working. On the weekends she looks after Hannah, she’s keeping on top of their bills, she’s cleaning up their apartment and fixing her own mistakes as best she can. She’s trying to be better for Hannah, now it’s just the two of them again, but sometimes Lex still feels like it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

What’s the point in trying?

“Nothing, really,” she answers, fully honest for once. Back in school she’d say she liked the guitar. Which is true—but she’d never owned one herself, never had lessons. She f*cked around when she was younger, hidden in the music room with Ethan and their friends where no one could find them. Stupid dreams of starting a band, of running away on a tour of the West Coast. Fantasy, really. “I don’t have time for, like… hobbies.”

For a moment Alice says nothing, and Lex isn’t surprised because this is what always happens. They open up, they reveal how f*cking tragic of an existent they live, and the person disengages. When they realize Lex isn’t even really a person at all—more a series of actions. A never ending to-do list. Too f*cking dysfunctional to ever really want to be around.

No wonder Ethan f*cking left.

She shakes her head—that’s not fair. Ethan didn’t leave. He wouldn’t, he loves Hannah too much to do that. No, Lex had pushed and pushed. Sunk in her claws, she got mean and she got angry, and it was about time really that he f*cked off because that’s what everyone else did. There’s a reason she doesn’t have friends, that her dad left before she was even f*cking born—a reason she never held down a relationship other than Ethan. A reason her mom hated her before she could even talk.

Lex Foster is broken. And no one likes broken.

“You could always pick one up,” is what Alice says. “It’s never too late to start a hobby. You could try painting, or music, or even baking. You know, just finding something to do can be fun.”

It’s pathetic. No, really is it, the way Lex almost crumbles into a pile of dust at that tiny speck of kindness. At the softness, the casualness, of Alice’s voice. A suggestion. Not a judgmental, how can you not have hobbies? Not an awkward, oh, well I actually have somewhere else to be. Not a mean, f*cking freak. Maybe Alice Woodward’s the only Honey Queen Pageant contestant that deserves to be running in this race after all. Lex could see why she’d be crowned the sweetest woman in Hatchetfield.

“I used to play the electric guitar,” Lex offers with a shrug. “I guess I could pick it up again if I find the time.”

Which they could. Hannah’s getting older, desperate for more independence than Lex feels comfortable giving her. Their new job doesn’t drain her of any and all life. They finally got their general diploma—which they’d worked f*cking ass off for, by the way—and they… Well… They have time.

“I’d just have to save for a guitar.”

“See!” Alice says with a grin, her eyes gentle and bright. Alice Woodward is the type of person to have so many hobbies she can never stick with just one. The type of person who hasn’t been kicked down by the world—who’s chest still swells with hope, and you can see it pictured clearly on her face. On her beautiful face full of dreams and imagination and levity. “It’s never too late, Lex, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Plus, you could always borrow mine. It’s acoustic so it’s not exactly the same, but I’m sure it’d make due for now!”

It’s a nice sentiment. Still, it’s a heavy weight on Lex’s chest. Never take too much, never accept gifts. Nothing is for free—nothing.

She needs to change the topic. Now.

Song writing. Lex should ask her about how she got into song writing.

“So, how did you get—?”

“I think you should kiss me.”

For a moment Lex thinks it comes out of nowhere, and well, maybe it does. Except, well, they’re both… Hanging out. And, yeah, Lex thinks Alice is pretty. And talented. Lex won’t lie and say she hasn’t had to fight the compulsion to hum the song Alice sung earlier. Plus, after how everything went down with Ethan… Well, she’s big enough to admit when she’s feeling lonely.

Lex raises a brow, unable to hide all her shock at the sudden statement. “Do you always ask people who lather you in compliments to kiss you?”

“Maybe I do.”

“Oh yeah?” Lex bites back a smirk and hums low and throaty, her hand drifting up to just slightly cup Alice’s chin. She brushes her thumb across it and to her bottom lip, pulling on it just slightly. She’s unable to tear her eyes away from Alice’s lips. “Is that what you really want, Woodward? For me to kiss you?”

“Yeah.” A nod, confident and so sure. “That’s exactly what I want.”

A thrill runs through Lex at the boldness of it all and sighs. Shrugs. She brings her hand up to rest on Alice’s shoulder, leans in slightly closer. Things had never felt so… spontaneous before. Not for a long time. Not like it is right now.

A chance to have some fun.

Hatchetfield High’s angel. Red lipstick, bright eyes and a sharp smile. Wit, and talent, and a heart too big for someone so small and someone so young. Her hair, fading reddish-brown grown out roots, to a bleach blonde, to a faded pink at the tips. Alice’s shirt is rumpled, a previously neat little button up with a cute bow, and Lex has the urge to rumple it more. To leave it a mess on her bedroom floor.

“f*ck it.”

Their lips meet, and Lex immediately tastes the cherry of Alice’s lipstick against her tongue. She hums again, leaning in harder. Her hand slips up from Alice’s shoulder to her jaw, fully cradling her face and savouring the sigh she gets in return.

Then, a sudden thought comes to her, and she yanks herself back.

“Wait,” she pants out, brows furrowed. Her stomach flips at the disappointed whimper from Alice’s lips. “Aren’t you with Deb?”

A frown spreads across Alice’s face at the question. “No, we broke up,” she says, then asking, “aren’t you with Ethan?”

Ah. Right.

“No.” The last thing you want is for someone to bring up your ex whilst you're kissing them. Yeah, she wishes she would have thought of that before when asking about Deb. “We also broke up.”

“Oh.” Alice nods, breathless. “...do you think this is a bad idea?”

“Probably,” Lex agrees, and yet neither of them make a move to untangle themselves. “Do you want to stop?”

For a long moment Alice is silent in thought. She drapes her arm across Lex’s shoulders, which is an answer enough, but she says, “no, I really don’t,” anyway. All breathy and too attractive for Lex to handle.

There’s a beat. Another moment of silence. “Me neither.”

Alice drags her back with the squeeze of her arm around Lex’s shoulders, crushing them together. Her other hand tangles into the mess of Lex’s hair, pulls just slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make Lex aware it could. Lex’s hand moves again from Alice’s face to the skin of her bare knee and she squeezes, the fabric of her skirt tickling against the back of Lex’s hand.

They part for a moment, then Alice is back and kissing her with more force—it knocks the air from her lungs, and she gets payback with the way she licks into Alice’s mouth. A smirk on her lips at the broken groan she gets in response. The vibration of the noise against Lex’s lips tingles all the way down to the tips of her fingers, and she thinks she wouldn’t mind if Alice made a similar noise again.

Maybe Lex is enjoying this too much for a random make out in a bar. Maybe it’s ridiculous she’s even doing this with some girl she went to high school with because she is still sad about her break up. Maybe this is something she’ll later blame on how much she drank.

Is this even as big a deal as she thinks it is?

This doesn’t mean anything—it’s a nothing encounter. Sure, Lex doesn’t want to stop kissing f*cking Hatchetfield High’s prom queen of 2018 anytime soon, but it really doesn’t seem like Alice is all that eager to stop kissing her back.

So they don’t. It’s easy to forget they’re in a busy bar right now, surrounded by people. Entirely consumed by one another.

The first thing Alice says afterwards is, “you were better at that than I expected.”

And Lex can’t help but take offense.

“Excuse me?”

“No, I mean—”

“That’s a hell of a thing to say after I just f*cked you, Woodward.”

“No—” Alice sits up, her hair falling in front of her face as she grabs Lex by the wrist, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She debates yanking her wrist away, but she finds some self control and shoots Alice a scathing look—or as scathing as she can manage. “It’s gonna take a miracle of an explanation to dig yourself out of this hole.”

“What I meant, Lex, was that I didn’t think you were gay.”

“...that’s worse than the last thing you said.”

Alice gapes, shaking her head. “Well— In high school you were dating Ethan and I—”

“Have you looked at me, like, once?” Lex asks, gesturing to herself. “I thought it was pretty obvious—and bisexuals exist, Woodward.”

For a long while Alice stares at her, her gaze morphing from terrified, to confused, to a realization. Her cheeks flush and she glances away. “Okay, well maybe my eyes were a little busy in high school…”

No matter how hard they try, it seems neither of them can escape the mention of their exes. Lex has no clue how fresh it is for Alice—but it’s pretty damn fresh for her. She had never been the type to… jump into a new relationship after a break up. Not that she really ever had the chance—she and Ethan never broke up for more than a day or two. Until this time, that is. Plus, it’s not like this is jumping into a relationship. It’s just… Well it’s—

“No, yeah. I totally see it now,” Alice says with a hum, and at this point it’s like she’s ogling Lex. With a smirk Lex shoves Alice back, off the anchor of her shoulder and she falls back against the bed with a yelp—Lex leans over her, raising a brow.

“Took you long enough.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“If I were any sort of bit of a f*cking cliché I might say ‘make me,’” she says with a smug ass grin, brushing her thumb along the curve of Alice’s jaw. Her skin is soft, smooth and— “But I’m not, and I really need to take a piss.” She rolls away and off the edge of the bed and steps over Alice’s guitar case they’d left lying in the middle of the room in their hurry. Lex holds back a grin at the soft, barely audible from so far away, whine that barely leaves Alice’s throat.

“Cliché, huh?” Alice says as she leans back up onto her elbow, watching as Lex pulls on a probably clean shirt.

“What? I know words, Alice. I may not look like a scholar—but I’ve read books.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply you hadn’t,” Alice says softly, “and maybe you are a scholar. Anyone can be a scholar, Lex.”

“f*ck you.”

“I’m serious!”

Lex narrows her gaze at Alice, turning fully back around despite her bladder’s own complaints she’s taking so long. “Don’t f*cking make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” she sounds genuine when she says it. Even then, Lex finds it hard to fully believe her—but that may be more of a Lex thing. See. She can be introspective. Sometimes… “You read books—and that’s cool! Scholarly. Seriously, Lex.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes at that. “Whatever you say.” Before Alice can attempt to justify herself further, Lex grabs a pair of underwear from her drawer and heads out the door, away from that train wreck of a conversation.

They wonder if they’ll always f*ck this sorta thing up—if a giant sign hangs above their head at all times saying, ‘talk to me, I’ll get angry for no reason and end pissing you off!’

After taking a piss she finds herself sitting on the small fire escape outside the kitchen window, which she’s technically not supposed to use as a balcony according to her landlord, but who the f*ck is gonna stop her? She lights a cigarette, resting her head back against the cool brick of her apartment building.

It’s about five minutes later when Alice finds her—she’s wearing one of Lex’s shirts and a pair of her shorts—and she sits down beside Lex. She shivers at the cold, snatching the cigarette from Lex’s hand and taking a drag.

“f*ckin’ rude,” Lex mumbles, taking it back.

Alice shrugs, a small smile on her face as she rests her chin against her knee, “I gave you a great org*sm, I think that makes us even now.”

That gets a huff of a laugh out of Lex. f*cking as if that makes them even. Alice Woodward acting as if Lex didn’t blow her f*cking mind just a few minutes ago. Still, she’s too tired to fight it. “Fair game, then?”

“Fair game.” She holds her hand, and with a half-annoyed eye roll Lex shakes on it. “Now that we’re officially in a truce period, I wanted to be real with you.”

“Oh?”

Oh. Oh no. If there’s something Lex can’t handle— especially right now—it’s being ‘real’. She keeps her cool, though. She always does. It’s a skill, seeming calm in the face of adversity, even when the entire f*cking world feels as if it’s burning up around. It was mostly a skill she used to keep Hannah calm, back when she was still oblivious how much sh*t they were in. Obviously, since Hannah is older and thinks she’s wiser, she attempts to insert herself into adult problems she doesn’t need to. Unlike herself, Lex doesn’t want Hannah throwing her childhood away. Not when there’s so little of it left now.

“This is definitely not how I saw my night going,” Alice says, no longer looking at Lex. She’s staring up at the moon—a crescent or something, whatever, Lex doesn’t f*cking know moon phases—and quiet for a long moment. “But… It was fun—and you’re cool.”

Okay, uh. Lex has no f*cking idea what that’s supposed to mean. Cool? Cool in what way? Cool in a ‘this was pretty fun but I never want to see or talk to you ever again’ way? Cool in a ‘you’re sick, wanna be friends’ way? Or cool in a ‘let’s make this something more and get into a relationship so we can blow up each other’s lives and leave one another shells of who we once were’ way?

Or… Okay or maybe she just means that Lex is cool. Yeah. That is… Definitely also an option here. Huh…

“Cool.”

“Yeah?” It’s only now that Lex can see that edge of hesitation, anxiety, somewhere in Alice’s eyes. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, glancing back out to the sky—the crescent moon hanging above them. “That leads me to my next question…”

Lex has to hold back a groan. f*ck. How she hates questions. Especially these deep, sorta introspective ones.

“Do you wanna make this a thing?” Alice asks, quickly adding, “a casual thing, I mean. Like friends with benefits.”

“You think we’re friends?” is what she asks with a grin. It’s a deflection—Lex knows it, but she doubts Alice knows her well enough to see through that. She hopes, at least.

“You know that I mean, Foster.”

Yeah. Yeah they do. They know exactly what Alice means—it’s a commitment. Like, it isn’t. It’s casual. But in a way it still is. Every relationship Lex had outside of Ethan had been ‘casual,’ and brief considering how long their break ups had lasted up until the most recent one.

“Is that what you want?” they ask, finishing the cigarette and putting it out on the little ashtray they’d propped up on the railing a long time ago.

With a sigh Alice leans forward, and she’s in Lex’s lap, pulling her close by the front of her shirt. “What I want is round two,” she says, and Lex raises a brow, impressed. Alright. “And I don't know about you, but I wouldn’t be opposed to doing this again another time.”

Lex hums, and she leans back with a grin as Alice attempts to lean in to kiss her. It’s cute, the way her brows furrow, but she refuses to move her gaze from Lex’s lips. Even as she grins wider, teasing as she drags her finger up Alice’s bare arm.

“How bad do you want this?”

Alice’s frown intensifies to a scowl, her hands clenching tighter around their shirt, pulling Lex just a little closer. “Don’t make me beg you.”

“Who said anything about begging?” they ask with a laugh, enjoying how easy they’re finding it to rile her up. “It’s just a question, Alice.”

Instead of answering she leans in again—able to catch Lex’s lips since she’s off guard at the sudden yank. It’s rough, rougher than any other kiss they’d shared tonight. Like lightning in a bottle. All heat, fire and brimstone, as Alice grabs her. Hands finding Lex’s waist and pulling her even closer. There’s a new desperation in Alice that wasn’t there earlier tonight. Lex isn’t sure where it’s come from. She’s not sure she wants to know.

Lex’s hands find their way back in Alice’s hair, not tugging or really pulling, just scratching along her scalp. She shivers against Lex, but that could easily be from the cold breeze out here. Even in summer, Hatchetfield can get colder at night.

A sharp grunt echoes in her throat as Alice bites down, pulling at her bottom lip as they part. Their eyes meet again—brown against hazel. Alice’s chest heaves, her hands sliding up from their purchase on Lex’s waist and under her shirt. Her hands are soft—uncalloused and covered in a couple freckles. Fingers dance across her stomach, and she twists, the feeling nearing ticklish.

“I’m all for trying new sh*t but I’m not gonna let you f*ck me on a fire escape.”

Alice snorts at that, rolling her eyes. “First of all, I’m feeling you up on a fire escape,” she says, her voice bordering on indigent, “and second, I’ve been trying to get you to come inside for the past five minutes now and you’re being a stubborn bitch about it.”

“You have?”

She grabs Lex by the wrist and forces her to her feet, dragging them back towards the small opening in the window. “Come on, Foster.”

She didn’t sleep that night in the cell. It wasn’t because of the uncomfortable bench, or the cold room in the middle of November. Lex spent those hours picking at the bandage the woman had wrapped around her bruised knuckles.

When morning came, it’d been Officer Bailey to release her, and she’d been tempted to apologize for the purple bruise she’d left imprinted on his cheek. But, Lex had never been good at saying sorry. Why would she start then?

Ethan picked her up, and she’d ducked her head as she got in the car. Hannah’s eyes were on her from the back seat—but no one spoke as they drove home. The pop song on the radio fills the blank space, and it isn’t until they were parked in the trailer park and Hannah had headed inside that Ethan turned to her.

He reached for her hand. “It was her?” he’d asked, even though he already knew the answer. Lex could only nod. At the time Lex thought now would be the time to cry. Last night had her anger. Now, it was supposed to be sadness.

She didn’t.

Lex pulled her bandaged hand away from his scrutiny, and she’d been glad he didn't question her any further. It was strange being inside the trailer, because even though her mom technically hasn’t been home all week, the absence was more noticeable.

A week ago she would have seethed and grumbled about beer cans and cigarettes, about dirty laundry and muddy shoes. That day she’d missed them, craved them, and her hands itched for something to do. For something to clean up, for old times sake.

There wasn’t anything. The night before she’d cleaned most of the mess. Ethan had cleaned up the rest. Sitting down on the sofa was like sacrilege, this had never been her spot. But no one else was going to fill it, and Ethan had already taken the armchair.

Hannah emerged from the bathroom, bouncing on her feet. Obviously Ethan didn’t tell her, Lex wouldn’t have expected him too, but a small part of her had wished he did. Another, louder part of her told her to get it together. It was her sh*tty mom who was dead. This was her job.

“Banana?” Lex said, hating how her voice cracks, and Hannah lifted her head. Her sister must notice something’s different, because she doesn’t pull a face at the nickname. “I have to tell you something.”

With a nod she came over and sat on the floor, in front of Ethan. Lex watched as he placed his hands on her shoulders, and a lump formed in her throat.

She recalled when her eighth grade teacher had to announce the death of their principal. She wondered if she should do it the same way. Death wasn’t something she had much experience with, not personally, at least. It was always just Hannah and her mom.

Now it was just Hannah.

“I went to the police station last night,” is what she said, and she hadn’t been quite sure where she was going with it. Hannah didn’t ask a question, like Lex had expected her too. Wanted her to. She was looking for a prompt to breach the subject. Clearly, she wasn’t going to get one. “And it was about mom.”

Still, Hannah stared at her. Lex couldn’t help but shift under her gaze, unable to lift her eyes to make eye contact.

f*ck. Why was this so hard?

“Lex.” It’s Ethan. He nodded at her, and smiled. “You've got this.”

Any other time that look, those words, would be enough. It’d done nothing in the moment. She returned a smile nonetheless. She doubted it seemed sincere. Because it’s not.

With a shaking breath she brought her gaze back to Hannah. “They told me that…” her words trailed off as she braced herself, “mom passed away.”

She wasn’t sure why she phrased it that way. No one just passes away in Hatchetfield. Her mom, body pierced by the metal of a car, didn’t pass away.

Her hands clenched by her side and she watched Hannah wearily, ready for tears, or yelling, or anything. That’s not what she got.

“Okay.”

Lex blinked, swallowing at her sister's eerily calm reaction. Sure, Lex was also calm, but deep down she knew it was a lie. Beneath the numbness, beneath the I don’t care, a stew of emotions bubbled and festered. Itching under her skin, twisting in her gut, clawing up her throat. A mix of emotions she was too tired to name, and too preoccupied to think about.

“Is that it?” Hannah asked, and a relief settled over Lex. This was unexpected, but she could deal with this. No tears to dry, no comfort to offer. It was strange, but Lex could deal with it.

“Yeah,” she’d said, plastering another smile on her face. “That’s it.”

“I can go now?”

“Sure.” Lex watched closely as Hannah stood, watching for any hints of that hidden emotion underneath. She didn’t see it.

Hannah turned back for a moment, and pointed to Ethan, “can he come? I need his help.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Ethan looked between the two of them. “I’ll be there in a sec, Banana.” He stood and walked over to Lex, crouching down in front of her. “You sure?” he’d asked, hand on her knee. She fought the urge to push it away. “I can stay with you.”

“I’m fine.” He’d been sceptical, she could tell. “Honestly,” she added, glancing up to where Hannah disappeared into their room. “Hannah needs you more right now.” Lex knew that wasn't true. Hannah was the one who was fine, but Lex didn’t need the comfort either. “Besides, I need some air.”

His eyes flickered over her face for a moment, and he bit his lip, standing. “If you need anything, I’m here.”

“I know.”

She’d headed out for some air, followed along a trail into the Witchwoods, unable to stop thinking about how much she hated today. Today. A funeral to plan, debt to pay, a trailer to sell, a car to repair, damages to cover, and still… Still, Lex couldn’t get herself to stop caring .

The spot she’d been looking for had been easy to find. A small rock—deemed to the make out rock by Hatchetfield teens. Covered in carvings such as ‘B + T Forever’ inside a crude heart, or, ‘Mayor Woodward sucks ass’ from a time before her. It had brought her comfort to come out here, before that day, and see proof with her own eyes that the world was still spinning before she’d been here. It had been salt in the wound, though, going there on that day. Her mom was gone, and the world kept spinning anyway.

She’d perched on the stone and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, lighting one up. The burn in her lungs was all the comfort she’d needed, surrounded by the chill of the Witchwoods and the croaking of toads and clicking of insects she’d been sure Hannah knew the name of. She kicked her legs, smacking her heels into the rock in a steady thud, thud, thud. And the burn in her lungs stayed, despite the smoke already having cleared in the air and the cigarette falling from her fingers and smouldering against the ground. The burn had twisted its way up her throat, into her face, and she’d shivered at the odd mixture of heat and cold on her skin.

She’d felt the drip of her tears on her hands first, oddly enough. Then on her cheeks. Her hands clenched around the fabric of her jeans, she’d savoured the way they scratched against her palms.

Most of her life Lex hadn’t dreamed of much. She’d longed for California, but that had been it. Had never bothered wishing for anything, even as a little girl. Except that one, dark thought she made sure to keep to herself. That her mom would die.

At night, sometimes she’d dream about the day, if it came. Her reaction would differ depending on how she felt, but it had never been like this. Never had tears, never had her choking on air and curling up into a ball in the middle of the woods.

She’d hated her mom with such a burning passion that Lex had once believed, if driven far enough, she could have killed her mom herself. Except, when confronted with the reality of her mom, dead. She felt… She felt f*cking guilty for ever thinking that.

Lex had hated her, still hated her, but it was her mom. And she was gone. A name on the news, a number on a list. Poked and prodded to find the true cause of her death—even though they all know what really happened. She’s a Foster, for f*ck’s sake.

There, alone, and grabbing at dying leaves and worm infected mud, Lex had wished once more.

Lex wanted to hug her mom, just one more time. Like back when she was little, before it got really bad. When it was just a little bit bad. When she could make her mom a keyring and she’d bother to attach it to her keys.

Then, Lex wanted to shove her back, deep into her grave.

Getting custody of Hannah had been easier than Lex had thought it to be. She’d spent more money than she’d been comfortable with on clothes, hoping to impress the judge. The man didn’t seem impressed, but he had granted Lex custody anyway, and that had been the end of it.

Lex had thought herself quite the genius when she wore the same outfit from the court hearing to her mom’s funeral. She’d invited Ethan and Tony, as well as some of her mom’s old friends that had stopped talking to her at various points throughout her life.

To her surprise, everyone had turned up.

Except, it hadn’t really been everyone. One person had been missing. Lex had emailed Mr. Houston, asking if he’d come. He’d been the one father figure in her life, before he’s basically disappeared. Lex thought it might have been nice to have his support. He hadn’t replied, or turned up. That had been almost enough to make her cry, but she hadn’t. She’d had enough of tears.

The funeral had been strange. Everything relating to her mom’s death had been.

Tony gave a speech, despite his voiced disdain for the women when she'd been alive. It was nice. There weren’t many nice things to say about Pamela Foster—but Mr. Green had managed to find a few lies.

Her own speech had been generic and bland. Saying the truth seemed too vulgar for the occasion.

No one cried. It was sadly fitting.

The urn is too pretty, even at the cheapest price.

That week there was a memorial to her on the news. It’d been ironic to see Dan Reynolds, the man her mom had obsessed over and idolized to an unhealthy degree, talk about her death between ‘New Brunch Ideas’ and the weather.

A few days after the funeral, when her schedule had been less busy, Lex had worked up the courage to look through her mom’s sh*t and finally get rid of it. It’d been the night after a long shift, and she had enough on her plate with Hannah, but she knew if she didn’t do it then she would have never done it.

Her mom hadn’t owned many things. Clothes, stashes of cigarettes and beer, magazines and a few books, and a hell of a lot of photos. Some from before Lex was born—when her life was ‘better’ as her mom so often put it. Most of them were from when Lex was younger, back when her mom still at least tried a little. One had caught her eye. It’d been of her mom holding her as a baby, the side torn off, the figure of a man erased. Lex assumed it had been her dad—missing from the photo just like he’d been missing from her life.

As a kid she dreamed of a man without a face who would swoop in and save her, fixing her mom and loving her in a way a dad was supposed to.

An older Lex had scoffed and rolled her eyes at the whimsical thoughts, tossing the stupid photos into a box and taping it closed. She carried it out to her car, planning to drive out to the edge of town tomorrow and dump it over the edge of the Nantucket Bridge.

The next day she does just that, the box sitting in the back seat, mocking her through the rear view mirror. The sooner she got rid of all those things—the things that smelled like her mom, felt like her mom, and took up space like her mom—the sooner she could just get over it.

She’d parked her car at the edge of the road, the Nantucket Bridge leering in the distance. Lex had stepped out into the cold, clutching the box to her chest as she walked down towards the bridge. Clivesdale sat on the other side, a scatter of buildings on the horizon.

f*ck Clivesdale.

Lex had balanced the box on the blue, rusting railing of the bridge and rested her chin on top of it. The wind caught in her hair and blew it across her face, and she sucked in a breath. Something inside her made her step away from the ledge. Before she could think about what she was doing she’d dropped the box to her feet and tore it open, reaching inside for the photo of her as a baby. Lex shoved it deep into her jacket pocket, and in a blink she’d been back at the ledge, tipping the contents of the box into the water below, and released the box to follow.

It hadn’t been as cathartic as she thought it would be. Needed it to be. She lit up another cigarette, replacing the pain in her chest with the familiar burn of cigarette smoke. Lex had stared down at the shirts floating in the water, watched as a pair of jeans soaked up water and sank.

After a couple days pass, Lex assumes that it really was a one time thing. Which is fine. It was a good time—it’d passed now. Lex can live with that. She’s probably had enough hook-ups to last a lifetime.

Except, one day at the Starlight they’re tucked away in the back of the rehearsal studio—doing their best to crunch the numbers for Hidgens. Math is hard, alright? Lex had never been very good at it. That’s when Alice approaches them—slightly sweaty and out of breath from rehearsals. Her hair stuck to her forehead, but she looks good in the loose light pink tank top and funky patterned leggings. Not that Lex really noticed or anything.

She slaps a hand over the clipboard resting against their propped up knee, and if it were anyone else Lex would have snarled like a dog. They were irritated enough as it was with all the math and sh*t. Instead they sigh and slowly lift their gaze—and it’s not purposeful, the way their gaze slightly drags up Alice’s body, but— Well.

“Can I help you, Woodward?” she asks with a small smirk and an eyebrow raise, pushing Alice’s hand away from the papers clipped to the board.

Alice’s lips shift into a pout and she furrows her brows, hands on her hips as she looks down at Lex. “I never got your number.”

Ah. That.

So— Maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing then?

“Oh—yeah. I can give it to you if you’re so desperate for it,” Lex says—as if she’s at all inconvenienced by this. She reaches into the pocket of her jacket, but before her hand can close around her phone Alice’s fingers grip her wrist.

She tugs Lex up from their seat, doesn’t even give them a moment to ask what the f*ck is going on. The clipboard fumbles from their fingers and clatters on the studio floor, and Alice drags them right through the doors they’d been sitting next to. Even still, Lex fumbles to grab their phone.

When she looks back up from her pocket she finds they’ve navigated through the thin halls of the Starlight, backstage behind Stage One. Lex opens her mouth once more to ask where the f*ck they’re going but Alice is way ahead of her still, shoving open the door to one of the dressing rooms and tugging Lex along with her as she barges inside.

“Alice—” Lex yelps, tripping over their own feet and only just catching themself on the edge of the sh*tty plastic vanity shoved up against the wall. They blink, eyes flickering up to the mirror. Alice struggles to lock the door behind them.

“f*cking…” she mutters under her breath, and once Lex has caught her breath she moves back towards the door. She pushes Alice’s hands away and jiggles the sliding lock, raising a single brow at Alice as it clicks.

“Do you wanna tell me why you’re locking the door?”

At that Alice rolls her eyes and huffs—always so petulant.

Lex shouldn’t be enjoying it. She really shouldn’t.

But…

“Because last I checked, trading phone numbers wasn’t something people exactly need to keep hidden behind closed doors,” Lex continues, “oh—was it my bare ankle?” She lifts up the left leg of her cuffed jeans, revealing a small line of skin between her jeans and sock. “Oh God. My reputation will be ruined!”

Thud.

Alice grips the lapels of her open jacket and shoves her back, and Lex gasps—the air knocked from her lungs at the impact.

“You act all tough,” Alice says, licking her lips. “But you’re just a softie, Lex Foster.”

Lex scoffs at that. “I’m not soft, Woodward.”

A light, airy hum vibrates in Alice’s throat. They’re so close that Lex can hear it. So close that each gentle, calm pump of Alice’s heart and the pants she lets out, still recovering from rehearsal, roar in Lex’s ears. The sound of it sends a tingle down her spine.

“You’re a big dork deep down,” she says. “With the voices, and the jokes, and your smile.”

“My smile?”

“Yeah. Your smile.” For a moment Alice leans back—as if to get a better look at Lex’s face. Her eyes are lighter in the dim lighting. They take their time, dancing across each of her features. “It’s… a nice smile.”

“Nice?” Lex questions with a coy look, curious as to what that means. As to why Alice had hesitated.

“Yeah.” She nods, and her eyes dash away for a brief moment, before they find Lex’s again. That’s one of those things Lex had never really struggled with. Eye contact. When she was younger she hadn’t understood Hannah’s struggle with it. It had frustrated her. And like she often does when she gets angry—she’d been mean. That was years ago now, and Hannah had long forgiven her. Still, Lex carries the guilt for that with her. That and so much more. “You don’t do it a lot—but you should do it more. You should, uh… I like when you look happy?”

Lex’s mouth twists to the side and she leans further back into the wall—can’t help but notice the way Alice’s hands tighten their grip as she moves. “Is that a statement or a question?”

“...a statement.”

“You sure?” they ask, teasing her now. Huh. Maybe she was right about the whole jokes and voices thing.

“Yeah. It’s nice seeing you enjoy yourself.”

“There’s that word again— nice.” Lex brings her hands up, fidgets with Alice’s fingers clenched around her clothes. She drops her gaze, watching close as slowly Alice relinquishes her tight grip. Lets Lex wrap their fingers together. “What does it mean, Woodward?”

“You do know the definition of nice, don’t you?” Alice shoots back, the biggest sh*t eating grin on her face.

Lex wants to kiss it off.

“We were in the same English class for a year—you might have forgotten once you moved up to AP Lit. But I’m not all brawn,” Lex says with a small eye roll. “What does it mean to you? You say my smile is nice, you say that Kathy Bateman’s routine for the pageant is nice, you say Hidgens’ new shoes are nice. Are all those the same to you?”

That clearly catches Alice off guard, and she sputters, shaking her head. “What? Of course not,” she spits out, recoiling and her hands moving to hold Lex by the waist instead. Pushing her harder against the brick behind them. If it were anyone else at any other time Lex might be pissed about the way they dig into their back—even through their thick jacket. “You’re way better than those things.”

“I am?”

“Ugh, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” She pushes, like always. That’s all she knows how to do. To push, and push, and push. Sometimes that doesn’t work out. Sometimes it really does. “I don’t think I do, Alice. I think you should—”

“Shut the f*ck up.”

A small, incredibly embarrassing squeak pushes out of Lex's mouth as Alice pushes their lips together. It’s borderline violent, clumsy and desperate. The edge of annoyance is palpable in the way Alice yanks them closer, fingers squeezing their hips. Their teeth clash for a moment before they fall into it, Lex’s arms wrapping around Alice’s shoulders and forcing her to lean further down to give them better leverage.

It’s familiar already. The way Alice kisses. With a vigor unlike anyone else Lex has ever kissed. Never before has Lex ever been so like water—cooling the raging fire, able to travel with the flow. They sink into it, back flush with the wall and lips flush with Alice’s.

A light nip at her bottom lip leads to harder, more purposeful bites. Alice drags her lips across Lex’s skin with little purpose but plenty intent—the slight lick of her tongue and more gentle presses of her lips down her jaw, her neck, at the edge of her shirt’s collar. Again, she bites, and Lex groans—fingers threading through Alice’s hair and pulling her head back, tilting her face so they’re looking at each other. This time she’s looking up at Lex—eyes swallowed by black and hunger.

“You need to chill out,” Lex says, her voice cracking. She blinks, and Alice is already kissing her again, and she pulls back once more. The back of her head knocks against the wall, and she closes her eyes and lets out a grunt. Ow. “I’m not gonna disappear on you.”

“Be careful.” Alice lifts her hand to cup the back of Lex’s head. So gentle. Too gentle for someone like Lex Foster. “You’ll give yourself brain damage doing that.”

“Aw. Do you care about me, Alice?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Based on the way Alice kisses them after that question—all gentle, slow and cradling the back of their head that still slightly throbs from the pain—she doesn’t at all mean it. After all: she called their smile nice. “You better not answer that.”

“If you want me to quiet you’re going to get a lot better at shutting me up.”

“You’ll regret goading me like this, Lex.”

She pulls a face, barely holding her huff of a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

Alice nods. “Yeah.”

“f*cking prove it.”

Once more she leans in—probably to prove her point—when there’s a knock at the door. They both freeze, clinging to each other as their eyes dart to the door. Lex swallows, because this is definitely worse for her than it is for Alice. Hooking up at rehearsal? Lex bets theater kids pull this sort of sh*t all the time.

Hooking up at work? With one of the contestants you’re being paid to help, no less?

Yeah…

“Lex?” It's Hidgens, because of course it is. He raps at the door once more, messing with the handle. “Are you in there?”

Alice and Lex’s eyes meet—they say nothing, but they quickly devise a plan based on looks alone. Lex darts to hide in the small closet in the corner of the room. It reminds her of when she’d play hide and seek with Hannah. Tucking herself into all sorts of weird places. Searching for Hannah in the decrepit remains of their trailer park. Hannah was always better at it than she was, but Lex really hopes her skills will hold up right now.

The door clicks and creaks open, and Lex can hardly hear the muffled words of Alice and Hidgens through the thick chestnut.

“--maybe she went out for a smoke.”

Huh. So that’s the excuse Alice is going with. She might laugh, if it wasn’t too real, and if she wasn’t stuffed into a closet trying to stay quiet. A few moments later the door thuds closed, and Alice swung open the closet. Lex blinks at the sudden light, eyes struggling to focus on the silhouette of Alice standing before her. Backlit with the harsh light of the dressing room—like an angel with a halo.

She offers Lex her hand, and it reminds Lex of the other night. When she first found Alice, crumpled on the stage, with drying tears. Their fingers slot together and Alice pulls her up, out of the closet and dusting off her jacket for her.

“Now,” she says, pulling her phone from her pocket and handing it over to Lex. “You gonna give me your number?”

And, well, how was Lex supposed to say no to that?