Crooked (girlxgirl)

Chapter Nine

Bea

I didn't plan this chapter but I felt like writing some Bea and Percy fluff so a tiny paragraph turned into...all this yeah enjoy !! {time skip, about four months}

"...yeah, and then I puked all over her $200 dress!" Percy's cheeriness was expected at lunchtime, and I sipped my apple juice with amusement. "Mother was furious!"

I chuckled. "I would be too!"

Percy rolled her eyes and chomped down on her chips with a huff. "Mothers should expect their children to come home drunk at least twice."

"And puke on their dresses?"

She paused. "Okay, that may have caught her off guard. But still! I was grounded for a month. How crazy is that?"

I giggled. "Reasonable."

"You don't even know my mom and you side with her every time! Remind me to never introduce the two of you," she groaned, stealing some of my chips even though she had plenty on her own plate. I swatted her hand away.

I stuck out my tongue. "It's practically December Percy, and you tell this story whenever you're in a good mood. My opinion isn't going to change no matter how many times you ask."

"Seriously? You think my punishment was worthy?"

"Definitely."

She leveled her gaze at me. "Tell me you've come home drunk." I shook my head. "Never?"

"Never," I affirmed. I leaned forward and wiggled my brows, lowering my voice secretively. "I've never, ever, gotten drunk."

Percy gasped dramatically, dragging a few surprised people's gazes over to our table. "Never?"

"Never." 

Percy stood abruptly, offering her hand with an over-exaggerated flair. "Come."

I sighed, sneaking one last bite of my sandwich before clutching her extended hand tightly. She blinked, and beamed, and I remembered the last time she had offered her hand I had rejected it. Flushing, I coughed and my smile faltered; it had just felt so natural and so easy in the moment that I had taken it without thinking about it. Had I made her uncomfortable?

"I, uh, we don't have to-" I tried to get my hand back but she squeezed and winked.

"Nope, you signed up for this and I'm never letting you go now!" she laughed, and I let her lead me to her car. 

"Where are we going?"

"To get you drunk!" she declared, as though it were something normal. It may have been a Friday night but I've only ever tried alcohol once, and it was when I had found my parents' beer in the fridge. Jax had found me after I took a sip - I had started sobbing because it tasted like cat piss - and poured it out. 

"I don't like bars. Or clubs," I let out, tensing in case she was getting sketchy ideas.

She glanced over at me and rolled her eyes. "I know."

"How?"

"I pay attention." Her answer was simple, but I felt the heat rising in my cheeks again. What was wrong with me? I glanced down at our hands - which she refused to break away from - and thought back to the moment in the library from months ago. I coughed and turned to stare out the window. If she saw my face now, what would she think? What if she thought I was a freak or something?

"Did you hear me?" she asked, and I spluttered, yanked out of my odd thoughts. 

Trying to regain my composure, I said, "What was that? Sorry."