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Katara couldn’t help but notice him, always tucking himself into the booth furthest from the front of the boba shop where she worked. Occasionally, she’d be caught up in the late night rush of customers and lose sight of him for a bit, but her gaze inevitably flitted back to him.
The shop closed at ten, and he was always packing his bag to leave by 9:55, and out the door by 9:58. Not that Katara would notice that sort of thing, of course. Katara spent a lot of time not noticing things about him, like the way he’d card his fingers through his dark hair, longer at the front and short on the sides, or the way his brows would furrow in frustration at whatever he was working on, or the tense set of his shoulders when he hit his stride, hunched over his laptop. Most of all, she noticed when his hand would absently come up to trace the raised edges of the scar covering the majority of the left side of his face, when he was lost in thought. It was clearly years old, and Katara would have to shake herself when she’d catch herself thinking about it.
He had been coming at least once a week for the past two months, and he was hard to miss, always sitting in that same secluded booth, body always angled toward the door as if he was always ready to run at a moment’s notice. Katara’s coworkers gossiped about anything and everything, but nowadays the majority of their gossip was speculation about him.
“Do you think he’s single?” Suki asked Katara one night, raising a brow at her.
“Who?” Katara asked.
“You know who. The hot guy in the booth.” Suki’s blue eyes searched Katara’s face for a glimmer of something.
Katara’s heartbeat picked up speed as she reflexively glanced toward the back of the shop, where the booth in question sat blissfully empty.
“Suki, you’re quite literally a lesbian,” Katara said drily, fiddling with the pendant around her neck.
The other girl laughed, shaking her head. “Not for me, Katara,” Suki replied, brow still raised as if Katara were missing something important. “Plus I’m gay, not blind.”
At Katara’s blank look, Suki sighed.
“For you. Duh.”
Katara couldn’t help the furious blush that crept up her face. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Katara grumbled.
“I’m being ridiculous?” Suki scoffed, waving a hand in the air. “You’re being ridiculous. He’s totally your type!”
“What exactly is my type, Suki?” Katara raised a brow. “I’ve had like, one boyfriend, and we all know how that turned out,” she grimaced, thinking of Jet and his stupid, shaggy brown hair.
“Hmm,” Suki pretended to think, tapping her foot against the floor. “Strong, silent, and broody? Brown hair and bedroom eyes?” She fluttered her long lashes, pretending to swoon.
“I hate you,” Katara rolled her eyes, fighting a blush nonetheless.
Suki just shrugged like she knew something Katara didn’t, smiling at her before turning around as the bell above the front door jingled.
“Hi, let us know if you have any questions about the menu!” Suki chirped to a group of college students who had stumbled through the doorway, laughing and pushing one another.
Katara glanced up at the clock, noting it was now an hour before closing and that they’d probably have their final rush of the night soon. The combined noise from the speakers playing lo-fi music overhead and the six or seven students pushing two smaller tables together distracted Katara enough that she didn’t notice another customer enter, not hearing the bell.
As she crouched down to restock one of the fridges, she heard a polite cough.
Startled, she dropped a carton of oat milk before hastily snatching it up off the floor, standing up and wiping her hands on her apron.
“Hi, so sorry about that, what can I get you?” Katara asked automatically, turning to face the register, still holding the carton.
“Hi,” said the man who had occupied too much of her brain for much too long.
Katara winced internally, clearing her throat and gripping the carton for dear life. “A large iced jasmine green tea with grass jelly, twenty-five percent sweet?” She blurted. She would have slapped a hand over her mouth, if not for the fact she was wearing gloves.
The customer quirked a brow at her. “You know my order?” He asked quietly.
“Er–” Katara began, face flaming, “I have a good memory,” she offered weakly.
Where the fuck was Suki?
At her lame excuse, the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, there and then gone.
Katara busied herself with punching in his order, stumbling over giving him the total and ripping his receipt out of the machine so quickly that the bottom end came out jagged. She all but slapped the receipt into his waiting palm, stammering that his order would be ready shortly and scurrying to the other end of the bar to begin making it.
She didn’t dare look up from her Very Important Task, but she could hear Suki snickering behind the curtain that led to their back of house.
“Suki,” Katara hissed, “where the fuck were you?”
“I was taking out the trash,” the lie rolled right off Suki’s tongue from where she stood, out of sight.
“Bull,” Katara muttered to herself, wiping the side of the cup with a towel.
Placing the drink on the order pickup counter, Katara called out his order number, making a conscious decision to not look toward the back of the shop, where she knew he was sitting. She had already embarrassed herself enough by blurting out his order to him, before he even had the chance to get a word in.
“Thanks, Katara,” he told her, nodding at the nametag pinned to her shirt.
“Uh, no problem,” she managed to nod in a way that was more like a spasm, voice going high on the last syllable.
She spun on her heel to enter the back of house, hellbent on finding Suki so that she could yell at the girl, other customers be damned.
The first day of the fall semester was always the most chaotic day on campus, and Katara’s first day of junior year was no different. She was already running late to her 9am, as her hair decided that today of all days, it would revolt against her multiple attempts at wrangling it into some semblance of a french braid. Checking the time, she rushed to pull on a pair of black cargo pants and a sky blue cropped cardigan, quickly lacing up her sneakers.
Suki had already left their shared apartment two hours earlier, insisting she had to go to some hot yoga class before school because the instructor had quote “thick, strong thighs that could crush my head without a thought and abs chiseled by the gods themselves.”
Katara sighed, pushing a rogue curl out of her face while staring into the woefully empty fridge. Slamming the door shut with slightly too much force, she resigned herself to either going hungry or to braving the hordes of excited students crowding the on-campus cafes. If she walked fast, she could probably make it to her favorite coffee shop.
She checked her phone when she got to campus, relieved to find that she still had thirty minutes before her first lecture. After joining a crowd of students huffing and puffing up the insanely steep hill leading to the middle of campus, astutely named “The Hill”, Katara extricated herself from the whirlwind of activity and entered her favorite cafe.
The line moved blissfully quick, and Katara was at the front with twenty minutes to spare. She ordered an iced dirty chai with oat milk and an almond croissant before moving to stand near the wall by the door. She glanced at her phone, sending a quick text to Suki about meeting up for lunch.
“Order for Zuko,” the barista called out, placing a paper cup and pastry bag on the pickup counter.
Katara’s eyes flitted up, watching as a figure approached the counter.
“Oh fuck,” she muttered, mouth pulling down into a slight frown.
Because it’s him, the guy from the booth at the boba shop. She ducked her head, pretended to be absorbed in her phone, prayed he wouldn’t notice her by the door, heart beating rapidly in her chest.
She looks up through her lashes, glances at the long, pale fingers reaching out to grab the cup and the bag, before squeezing her eyes shut. Get a fucking grip, she thinks to herself. They’re just hands. He’s wearing a forest green henley, sleeves neatly rolled to the elbow, and dark wash jeans. His black backpack, the one he brings to the boba shop, hangs off of one broad shoulder. Damn him.
The guy, Zuko, pivoted on his heel, glancing around the small cafe as if he couldn't help but scan the crowd on his way to the door. Katara held her breath when his amber eyes caught on her, exhaling shakily as he gazed at the other patrons, before his stare landed back on her. His brow twitched, mouth tilting into a hint of a smile. Nodding at her once, he shouldered open the front door, leaving Katara with a whiff of coffee grounds, cloves, and smoke.
She was five minutes late to class.
“So, how was your first day?” Suki asks, munching on a french fry. “I’d ask about your epigenetics class, but I don’t want to activate nerd mode when I’ve been up since 5am.”
Katara rolled her eyes. “It was fine. Nothing of interest whatsoever,” she said, looking down at the elaborate designs on the table, trying to inject as much casual indifference into her voice as possible.
“Bullshit!” Suki pointed a finger in her face, a manic gleam in her eyes. “What happened?” She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in her chair, the faded black plastic squeaking in protest.
Katara scrubbed a hand over her face before pleading, “Can you talk any quieter? Someone could hear us.”
Scoffing, Suki waved a hand in the air, “Like who? It’s the first day of school and everyone here is too caught up in who fucked who over the summer.”
Blessedly, Katara’s phone pinged and she paused to read the text from Sokka.
“My brother’s on his way,” Katara said. “Do you want me to tell him not to come?”
“Pfft,” Suki waved her off. “You really need to get over that. I like Sokka just fine, moreso now than when we were dating, anyway. This is perfect, actually, because now we can gang up on you about the boba shop booth guy!” She clapped her hands, grinning at her.
“Joy,” Katara deadpanned, stabbing her fork into her orange chicken, fighting the blush that threatened to creep up her neck.
“Katara! Suki!” Sokka’s voice carried across the crowded food court as he bounded up to them, throwing his arm across his sister’s shoulder.
“Get off me, Sokka,” Katara grumbled, nudging his arm. “Did you just come from practice?” She wrinkled her nose at the smell of sweat and soccer balls.
“Why yes, lovely sister, as a matter of fact, I did. I’m famished!” He put a hand to his forehead, pretending to faint before collapsing in the empty seat between the two girls.
Plucking Katara’s fork from her hand, sliding her tray of food closer to himself, Sokka began to tuck into her lunch with enthusiasm.
“How was practice?” Suki asked, watching him in
amusement as he devoured what was left of Katara’s meal.
Pausing to swallow, Sokka replied, “It was great to get back into things. We have a great team this year, and I think we might have a shot at nationals!” He shoved another forkful of noodles into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. “Haru is the best goalie we’ve had in ages and Zuko’s offense is insane!” He grabbed Katara’s soda off the table, taking a long sip.
Katara, who mostly zoned out whenever her brother began talking about soccer ad nauseam, choked on her saliva at the mention of Zuko. Eyes watering, she motioned for Sokka to continue, pretending not to notice Suki’s pointed stare.
“Anyway,” Sokka prattled on, “what about you two? How’s the boba shop?”
“It’s so funny that you asked,” Suki drawled, smirking at Katara. “There’s this regular that’s been coming in the last few months. He’s really easy on the eyes,” she fluttered her lashes. “Katara has his order memorized and everything.”
A swift kick from Katara under the table had Suki wincing, her eyes promising revenge.
“Really?” Sokka raised a brow, leaning toward his sister.
“Absolutely not,” Katara denied vehemently, though her blush gave her away.
“Katara was just about to tell me the interesting thing that happened to her today,” Suki added, unhelpfully. “Weren’t you, Katara?”
“No, I was not,” Katara shook her head, loosening her uncooperative braid even more.
“Come on, Katara,” Sokka jeered, “don’t be such a nerd!” “Says the mechanical engineering major,” Katara retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh really, you want to go there, Miss Biomedical Physiology?” Sokka laughed. “You’re the biggest nerd I know and–” he paused, staring at someone walking toward their table.
“Oh fuck,” Katara muttered for the second time that day.
“Zuko!” Sokka began waving both arms in the air wildly, garnering a few glances from the nearby tables. “Zuko, over here!” He shouted, standing from his seat.
Suki’s mouth dropped open, glancing rapidly between Katara, Zuko, and Sokka. Katara was hellbent on staring down at the table, but she knew without a doubt that Suki was smirking like the cat that got the cream.
Zuko stood a few feet away, pulling off his headphones. “Hey, Sokka,” he said quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Katara, Suki, this is the guy I was just talking about, Zuko, the best center forward we have,” he gestured to the person in question. “Zuko, this is Katara, my sister,” he pointed down at her as she tried her best to turn invisible through sheer force of will. Oblivious to Katara’s immense discomfort, Sokka continued, “and this is Suki, our friend and my ex-girlfriend. Sit with us!” He gestured to the chair across from himself.
Zuko slowly walked to the empty chair, dropping his backpack on the ground with a thud, before settling in. “Hi,” he murmured to Suki, who waved in return. “You work at the boba shop right off campus, right?”
“Sure do! Nice to see you again.” Suki chirped. She smiled so widely, all of her teeth were on display.
Zuko nodded at her, then turned toward Katara.
“Hi,” she managed, averting her eyes.
Again, that damned half-smile appeared on his stupid, perfect face. His eyes were glittering with amusement, hands folded on the table in front of him. “I’d say seeing you once today is luck, but twice in the same day? That’s fate.” He was fully smiling now, eyes trained on hers.
Katara’s teeth ground together with the force she dedicated to keeping her jaw from falling open. She fidgeted with the pendant on her necklace, feeling twin stares from Sokka and Suki. Blushing, she knew she needed to say something before the silence became awkward, but her brain was currently drawing a blank. Fuck.
A nudge from Suki’s foot under the table brought Katara back into the present.
“Hi,” she said lamely, not looking him in the eye.
Zuko puffed a laugh. “It’s nice to finally officially meet you.”
Sokka, who had been giving Katara a dirty look, spoke up. “How do you two know each other?” His blue eyes were pinned on his sister.
“We don’t,” Katara started, voice strangled, eyes wide and pleading.
“Rude!” Zuko admonished, hand to his chest in mock affront. “My favorite boba shop is the one she works at,” he shrugs.
“Oh, that’s you,” Sokka side-eyes his sister.
Suki snickers, the sound grating on Katara’s frayed nerves. Her brother opens his mouth to say something about her that’s sure to be mortifying, so Katara pushes up out of her chair, the plastic legs dragging across the linoleum with a loud, discordant screech.
“I um,” Katara stammers, wheels spinning for an excuse, “I have to go to class.” She forces her face into what she hopes is a smile, but is probably a grimace. She stoops down to grab her backpack, hoisting it over a shoulder and fiddling with the strap before acknowledging the table.
“I’ll see you later,” she nods to Suki and Sokka, both of whom are staring at her like she’s suddenly grown another head.
Taking a fortifying breath, she glances at Zuko, whose amber eyes are twinkling with mirth, a congenial smile on his pale face. He absently pushes up the sleeve of his henley, and Katara’s eyes track the movement.
“Bye, Zuko,” she manages to say.
Before Suki has the chance to point out that her next class isn’t for another hour, Katara pivots on a heel and rapidly makes her way out of the food court, the raucous laughter of reuniting students ringing in her ears.
Katara’s starting to close up the shop when the bell above the door jingles. Rolling her eyes at the audacity of someone coming in five minutes before closing, she turns to face the register.
“Hi, welcome in,” Katara greets the girl with false cheer. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
The girl seems to float gracefully toward the cash register, her limbs seeming to defy gravity. Her long brown braid, thicker than her wrist, sways behind her. She smiles beatifically at Katara.
“Hi, is Suki here?’ The girl asks, squaring her shoulders, still smiling.
“Oh,” Katara says, having expected the girl to want to order something. “Yeah, she’s in the back. I’ll go grab her.”
The girl nods, her cheeks dimpling. “Thanks!”
As Katara begins to turn away, the girl reaches out a well-manicured hand to stop her.
“Wait,” she says. “Katara?” She points to the nametag pinned to Katara’s shirt.
Katara nods dumbly. She’s pretty sure she’s never met this girl before, so why is she saying her name like they know each other?
“Sorry, I’m Ty Lee,” the girl offers, giggling. “I met Suki at a hot yoga class,” she explains.
“Nice to meet you,” Katara smiles shyly. “I can go get her?” She raises a brow, still not sure why Ty Lee stopped her in the first place.
“What are you doing next Friday night?” Ty Lee asks, her large eyes blinking owlishly.
“Um,” Katara hesitates, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
Before she can continue making a fool out of herself, she hears the curtain leading into the back of house swoosh open.
“Ty Lee!” Suki’s voice exclaims from behind Katara.
Suki gently pushes Katara to the side, clearing her throat and smoothing her hair.
“Hi babe, I was in the area so I wanted to stop by!” Ty Lee’s grin is bashful. “This place is so cute,” she adds, gesturing to the tatami mats and the paper lanterns, candles burning low and casting shadows along the walls.
Katara stands off to the side, brows lost in her fringe as she mulls over what Ty Lee meant by babe. She feels like she’s intruding, and takes a step backward to leave, but Ty Lee’s lilting voice addresses her.
“Next Friday night?” She asks again, placing both hands on the counter.
Katara’s eyes dart from Suki, whose eyes are fixed on the other girl’s heart-shaped face, to Ty Lee, who’s staring at Suki with equal appraisal but still waiting for Katara’s answer.
“Is it that party you were telling me about?” Suki cuts in.
Ty Lee nods enthusiastically. “Some friends of mine are throwing a back-to-school party. It’s on the equinox, so it’s celestial-themed,” she adds. “Will you come?” Her grey-brown eyes give Katara a quick once-over.
“Oh, thanks,” Katara swallows, stalling.
As if Suki can sense her apprehension, Suki nudges her with a shoulder. “I’m going,” she wiggles her fingers in front of Katara’s face as if that will entice her. Turning back to Ty Lee, she says, “We’ll be there!”
Great, Katara thinks.
“Awesome!” Ty Lee sounds genuinely pleased. She glances at Katara again, a knowing glint in her eye. “I’ll text you the details later tonight,” she tells Suki. “Bye babe!” And with that, she leans forward to plant a kiss on Suki’s cheek before skipping out the door.
Katara opens her mouth to ask what the fuck that was about, but Suki holds up a finger.
“We aren’t talking about my love life until you talk about yours.” She shakes her head, chin-length hair swishing with the motion.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Katara replies, pursing her lips.
“Oh really?” Suki asks, brows raising as she leans against the bar. “So last week, when Sokka introduced us to Zuko,” she says his name in an exaggerated, sultry tone, “that was nothing?”
Katara’s eye twitches. She inhales deeply, calming herself and shoving all thoughts of Zuko and his tousled hair and his charming words out of her mind.
“Yes, Suki, that was nothing.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “We barely exchanged ten words. It was awkward. Anyone with half a brain could see through my excuse to get out of there. He probably hates me,” Katara groans, shutting her eyes.
“Psh,” Suki waves her off. “He seemed to really not hate you,” she waggles her brows. “What was it he said to you again? Something about fate bringing you two together?” She clasps her hands together in front of her chest, batting her lashes.
Katara groans in frustration, pushing Suki away.
“You’re the worst,” she tells her friend, turning toward the back so Suki can’t see her blush.
“Come on Katara,” Suki’s voice was muffled through the door. “We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry the fuck up!” Her fist pounded on the wood.
Huffing, Katara gritted out, “Just a second!”
Suki had convinced her to keep her hair in its natural loose waves tonight, so long now that it skimmed the tops of her hips. Suki, damn her, had also convinced Katara to splurge on a new outfit for this party, insisting that not meeting the “celestial theme” would be social suicide.
And so, Katara found herself standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, futilely tugging at the satin clinging to her upper thighs, grumbling when the material inevitably rode up. The dress was undeniably beautiful, embellished with shimmering clusters of beads made to look like stars, a large, silver crescent moon curving across one hip. The low sweetheart neckline and thin straps were similarly decorated, and fractals of light bounced off Katara’s bedroom walls whenever she moved. The top of the dress was black, the color gradually fading to a deep purple, and finally, a midnight blue. The beading was most dense at the skirt, giving the illusion of twinkling stars in the midnight sky.
“Holy shit,” Suki’s patience had apparently run out, as she was now barging into Katara’s room and taking her in. “You look hot!” She let out a low whistle.
“Is it too much, do you think?” Katara’s hands fluttered nervously, smoothing the fabric at her hips, teetering on her silver platform sandals.
Suki barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”
Katara watched as Suki’s reflection approached her own in the mirror. Her own dress was gold lamé, low-cut and gathered in the middle of her waist, the metallic fabric fanning up and out like sun rays. Katara’s false lashes felt heavy on her eyes, her highlighter too blinding, her eyeliner too thick.
Suki’s voice cut off Katara’s internal turmoil. “You’re going to this party, Katara. That dress is insane on you. Seriously, you have nothing to worry about.” Suki shook her head.
Grabbing Katara by the shoulders, she hauled her out of the room, barely giving her time to grab her purse. Suki snatched her carabiner from the kitchen counter, still pulling Katara along.
Katara began to say something again but Suki cut her off.
“Nope! We’re going!” Suki chirped, grabbing Katara’s wrist as she opened the front door to their apartment, swiftly locking it before Katara could push her way back inside.
The address Ty Lee had given Suki was for a house on the other side of campus, in a neighborhood that was too expensive for the average college student. Katara spent most of the walk in silence, letting Suki tell her about the first time she met Ty Lee, and how the two of them had got on like a house on fire.
“Seriously, I’ve never seen someone so flexible,” Suki said, shaking her head. “It’s actually insane!”
A surprised laugh burst out of Katara’s chest. “I thought we had an unspoken moratorium on giving each other details of our sex lives?” Katara chided, unable to stop from grinning.
“Jesus Christ,” Suki groaned, “are you going to talk like that at the party?”
“Like what?” Katara asked.
“Like a fucking nerd,” Suki deadpanned, hopping a few steps ahead of Katara and waiting for her to catch up, before repeating the move.
Indignant, Katara said testily, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Moratorium is not a word normal twenty-one year olds use,” Suki explained very slowly, as if Katara was an especially dumb child. “You need to loosen up, especially if you look like that tonight,” she gestured toward Katara’s beaded dress.
Katara pursed her lips, about to retort when Suki stopped short on the sidewalk. She barely stopped herself from slamming into Suki’s back and tripping over a crack in the concrete.
“We’re here!” Suki announced, pointing at the house at the end of a long, cobblestone driveway.
House was rather underselling it. It was more like a country home, with a dark stone exterior, massive carved columns, and perfectly manicured hedges. Before Katara could take in more, Suki was dragging her along, up the driveway.
There were other people milling about the expansive, immaculate lawns in various stages of drunkenness, stumbling over the uneven ground. On what had to be a massive sound system, Katara could hear Nelly Furtado commanding those on the dancefloor to come on, jump around, from halfway up the drive, the beat thrumming under the stones beneath their feet. As the pair approached, Katara gaped at the floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched out on either side of the massive, ornate front door. From this distance, she saw a massive, state-of-the-art kitchen with black marble countertops and a glittering chandelier. The way the partygoers were draped lazily across the kitchen island and countertops, their shirts and skirts rumpled, limbs loose and hair wild, was positively bacchanalian. Katara swallowed hard as Suki twisted the wrought iron door handle, gesturing for Katara to enter the home first.
The two of them were immediately swept up into the mass of swaying, pliable bodies, the air inside the house heavily saturated with the smell of perfume and perspiration. Wincing as someone elbowed her in the ribs, Katara had to fight the instinct to run out the way she came.
“Ty Lee’s in the kitchen,” Suki yelled over the thrumming bass as she checked her phone, hand gripping Katara’s firmly.
Katara’s mumbles of excuse me, sorry, fell on deaf ears as the sea of sweaty college students parted for them to pass through. The kitchen that Katara had observed from the driveway seemed even larger, somehow more ornate, once she was standing in the archway.
Dozens of handles of alcohol were haphazardly strewn across the vast kitchen island, interspersed with empty beer cans and red plastic cups containing crayon-colored liquid. Paper napkins were crumpled up on plates littered with pieces of potato chips too small to bother with, and Katara spotted somebody’s right shoe beneath one of the bar stools. A pair of girls stood at the far end of the island, facing the expansive windows. Suki rounded the side of the island, taking care to avoid the bright pink liquid on the tile floor.
“SUKI!” Ty Lee squealed, hopping up and down in place. The gold bangles on her wrists jangled with the movement.
Once Suki was within arms reach, the other girl grabbed her by her smiling face, pulling her into a kiss that went on a touch too long to be publicly decent. Katara averted her eyes instead, glancing at the girl who had just been talking to Ty Lee. Her hair was jet black, with pin straight bangs that covered her eyebrows from view. Her back was rigid as her dark, intense eyes flitted briefly to Ty Lee and Suki before flicking away, her sharp jaw clenching.
“This is my friend, Mai,” Ty Lee shouted after removing her tongue from Suki’s mouth.
“Nice to meet you,” Suki smiled, nodding.
Mai smiled slightly, a tightlipped, half-formed thing that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m Katara, Suki’s roommate,” Katara offered, “I like your outfit!” She yelled over the Spice Girls’ Wannabe, blasting from another room in the house.
Mai’s smile widened just a smidge, there and then gone. She was wearing black knee-high platform boots, black tights, and a long-sleeve black lace minidress. Her only consolation to the celestial theme were two silver, star-shaped hair pins, clipping the sides of her hair away from her face. The contrast between Mai’s all black outfit and her pale coloring made her skin seem to glow milk-white under the light of the chandelier, its crystal beads shivering overhead, casting shadows.
“Shots!” Ty Lee shouted, hopping up effortlessly onto the island despite already being drunk, her silver dress riding up her toned thighs. Twisting, she pulled a mostly-full handle of Tito’s out from the cluster of glass bottles.
Mai mumbled something under her breath, looking less than enthused, but nonetheless turned to grab clean shot glasses out of a kitchen cabinet over the sink. Dutifully, she lined the four glasses up on the counter next to Ty Lee’s left leg, sweeping crumbs off the cool surface as she did so. Ty Lee managed not to spill a drop as she poured out four very generous shots, giggling as Suki slid an arm around her waist.
Katara grimaced as she lifted the shot glass to her mouth, wincing as the vodka burned a trail down her throat. She just barely managed not to cough, setting the glass back on the countertop with a clink. Suki was now using Ty Lee’s mouth as a chaser, and Katara rolled her eyes, glancing at Mai, who had that same, indiscernible look on her face as she looked at Ty Lee where she was perched on the island, hand in Suki’s hair.
Three more shots later and Katara was sufficiently plastered, leaning against the arm of the massive leather sofa in the living room, swaying slightly to the music. She was exhausted, having been dragged to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the gigantic living room, forced to watch Suki and Ty Lee get sloppy drunk, pawing at each other like women starved. At some point, Mai had slipped away without a backwards glance, leaving Katara to wrangle in her friends before they got kicked out for public indecency. Did that actually happen at house parties, anyway? Well, Katara definitely didn’t want to find out.
Ty Lee’s sparkling laugh cut through the din of conversation as she and Suki made their way back from somewhere, the two of them looking only slightly disheveled.
“Katara,” Ty Lee called out as they approached hand in hand, still graceful despite stumbling a bit in her stilettos. “My friend is here,” she says, eyes going unfocused for a second.
“That’s nice,” Katara nods, slurring a little. What friend?
“Let’s go dance,” Suki pleaded, leaning forward to tug on Katara’s arm.
“You two go ahead,” Katara shouted as Mac Miller sang don’t be mad that your girl loves me. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom!” She pointed toward the hallway branching off from the living room.
“Kay!” Suki nodded enthusiastically, her white teeth sparkling under the strobe lights. She looped her arm around Ty Lee’s waist, and the pair was shortly absorbed by the mass of wriggling, grinding bodies on the dancefloor.
Dabbing at the sweat gathered at her brow, Katara stood on wobbly legs. A group of girls leaned against the back wall of the living room that led to the hallway. As she walked by, one of the girls bumped into Katara, splashing a technicolor cocktail down the front of Katara’s dress, causing her to jolt.
“Oh shit!” The girl yelled, holding Katara by the shoulders. “I’m so sorry!” She began to dab at Katara’s dress with a paper napkin.
Another girl separated herself from the rest of the group, shoving her way between Katara and the other girl. “Really, Jin?” She drawled, looking Katara up and down.
Jin blushed furiously, mumbling something, staring at the ground.
“Sorry about that,” the other girl said, “do you need to borrow something to wear?” The girl’s slicked-back, black ponytail swayed as she cocked her head to one side. “Azula,” she said by way of greeting, her golden eyes flitting over her face.
“Katara,” she nodded, “that’d be great.”
At the mention of her name, Azula’s keen eyes glimmered with something akin to mischief. “Oh,” she said, the beginnings of a smirk twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Go up the stairs, last door on your left. The room should be empty and you can wash up in the bathroom,” Azula informed her, still smirking. “I’ll find a change of clothes and bring them up in a bit,” her confident tone left no room for argument.
Katara pushed through the dense crowd before making her way up an obscenely ornate spiral staircase, grumbling to herself about drunk people at parties and too-expensive dresses. The carpet under her feet was plush as she stood on the landing, trying to remember Azula’s directions, the hallway blissfully quiet in comparison to the riot downstairs.
Pushing open the dark wood door to the last room on the left, Katara breathed a sigh of relief. The bedroom was dark, the only source of light being from the two, wide windows overlooking the manicured lawn that wrapped around the side of the house. A set of French doors, their black gauzy curtains drawn, led out onto a balcony with a view of the grounds. She ran her fingers along the wall until she found the light panel, switching them on.
She teetered a little as she gasped, eyes going wide as they roved over the bookshelves built into the back wall. The bed, a massive four-poster carved from mahogany, dominated one wall, dressed in maroon linens. A stone fireplace with two, plush reading chairs and a low wooden table, broke up the bookshelves. A pair of double doors led to what Katara assumed was a walk-in closet, and another door led to the bathroom.
Katara winced as the bright lighting built into the mirror turned on automatically once she stepped inside the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, the space was just as richly decorated as the rest of the house, consisting of black marble tiled floors, a massive vanity built into the countertop, and a bathtub set into the floor that was more like a jacuzzi. She quickly shucked her dress off, now wet and sticky with whatever concoction that girl, Jin, had been drinking. She plucked a plush washcloth off the towel rack, running it under warm water before dabbing at her stomach. She ran her dress under the gleaming faucet, watching the water turn a pale pink, before leaving it to dry over the towel rack along with the washcloth.
The sound of the bedroom door opening startled Katara, sending her heart racing.
“What the fuck, Azula?!” A male voice yelled from the threshold. She could hear someone stomping inside, yanking open the doors to the closet as a girl, Azula, probably, cackled from somewhere in the hall. “That was my favorite fucking shirt!”
Katara was frozen like a deer in headlights. She knew that voice. She shyly peeked around the bathroom door, noting that the closet light was now on, the doors flung wide. There was no way she could make it out without being seen by him. Mortification washed over her, a sense of dread trickling from her scalp to her toes. She was way too drunk for this. If she closed the door to the bathroom, maybe he wouldn’t notice?
The rummaging noise from the closet had paused, and Katara held her breath in anticipation. She had left the bedroom lights on.
“Hello?” Zuko called, exiting the closet, a new shirt in hand.
Katara’s tongue was heavy in her mouth.
Zuko glanced around what must be his bedroom, before his eyes finally landed on the bathroom. Katara was barely visible, her head poking out from behind the door. His amber eyes were wide with disbelief.
“Um,” Katara said lamely. “I’m so sorry. Somebody spilled a drink on my dress and Azula told me to come up here to clean up. She said she would bring me a change of clothes. I thought this was her room, I swear, or I would’ve never come in here. I’m so sorry to intrude,” she couldn’t stop the word vomit now.
The expression on Zuko’s face went from quizzical, to furious, to sympathetic.
He approached her slowly, as if not to spook her.
“Hey, Katara,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I didn’t know you would be here. At the party in general, I mean, not like, here in my bedroom. Um, not that you aren’t welcome here, of course. At the party,” he clarified, “not in my room.” He choked a laugh and winced.
She had to fight every instinct in her body to keep her eyes on his unfairly beautiful face. He was shirtless, the pale skin of his chest and abdomen gleaming. All of the blood in her body was in her face.
“Um, hi,” she offered weakly, still concealed behind the bathroom door.
He took a step back, having absorbed the fact that she was currently not wearing her dress. “Fuck, sorry,” he scrubbed a broad hand over his face. “Let me get you something to wear,” and with that, he turned mechanically in the other direction, shoulders hunched.
She could hear him say, “Why the fuck would you say that? Really smooth,” to himself as he retreated back into the closet. She laughed a little, slapping a hand over her mouth lest he ask her what she was laughing about.
“Is this okay?” He asked, shoving a black t-shirt and flannel pajama pants through the gap in the bathroom door.
“Yes, this is fine, thanks,” Katara replied, snatching the bundle of clothing. She shut the door behind her, pulling the soft fabric over her head and hips. Damn, she thought, it smells like him. The shirt sleeves went down to nearly her elbows, the hem ending at mid-thigh. She tied the drawstring on the flannel pants as tight as it would go, the cuffs dragging across the cool tile floor. She surveyed her reflection in the mirror, noting that her makeup was still passably intact, eyelashes still in place. Not that she wanted to look good for anyone.
She opened the door to the bathroom, stepping out tentatively. Zuko was there, buttoning up a black, long-sleeve dress shirt. She giggled, hiccuping.
“What’s so funny?” He asked, turning toward her as he did up the top two buttons.
Her mouth was dry as she followed the way his fingers deftly worked up his chest.
“It’s a house party,” she uncharacteristically giggled again. Fuck Ty Lee and her disarmingly charming personality, and fuck Tito’s vodka especially. “You’re wearing a button-up dress shirt to a house party,” she pointed at him, her body listing slightly to one side as if her foundation was uneven.
Zuko wore a bemused expression. “How much have you had to drink?” He carded a hand through his fringe. To a non-drunk person, it was clear he was trying to look anywhere but her, standing there wearing his clothes. He shuffled over to the fireplace, lighting it with practiced ease.
“Too much,” Katara admits, fidgeting with the drawstring on her pants. “Ty Lee is a menace.”
Zuko’s eyebrows raise at the mention of Ty Lee. She can practically hear the gears whirring in his head.
“Fuck me,” he groans, flopping down into one of the comfy reading chairs.
Katara doesn’t know what to say, so she hesitantly perches on the edge of the other chair.
“How do you know Ty Lee?” He asks, seemingly resigned.
“I don’t, not really,” Katara explains, closing her eyes for a second as the room spins. “She came into my work a few weeks ago, looking for Suki.”
Zuko nodded, gesturing for her to continue. He wore an expression similar to a man being led to the gallows.
“Um, she saw my nametag, and seemed to know me from somewhere.”
At this, Zuko made a choking sound, a blush high on his pale, sharp cheekbones.
“She invited me to this party tonight,” Katara finished lamely.
Zuko nodded, as if he expected this. He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes and leaning back in the chair.
“And Azula?” He asked, cracking an eye open to look at her briefly.
“She was there when a girl accidentally spilled her drink on me. She introduced herself
and told me to come up here to change,” Katara murmured, distracted as she watched Zuko fiddle with the cuff of his shirtsleeve.
He let out a long-suffering sigh. “She’s my sister,” he told her, as if that explained everything. “Ty Lee is one of her best friends. We all grew up together.”
“That’s nice,” Katara said, not sure where this was going.
Zuko sat up a little straighter, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, embarrassed. He was a chiaroscuro-painted vision, his artfully tousled hair melting into the shadows behind him, his amber eyes catching the firelight. His pale hands were reaching toward the fire, and it seemed to Katara that the flames were attracted to him, that he could have brushed his fingertips against them if he wanted to.
“They know about you,” he admitted quietly.
“Know about me?” Katara asked, confused, wrapping her arms around her middle.
He cleared his throat, a low, rumbling sound. “I’ve been coming to the boba shop for three months,” he says matter-of-factly, glancing at her before tearing his eyes away.
She nodded, slowly, still not understanding. He sighed again.
“I only come in on the days that you’re there,” he continued.
“That’s nice,” Katara trailed off.
“Nevermind,” he shook his head, a slight grimace on his face.
Katara’s mind was lagging behind her body, her head spinning. She felt like she was missing something important, something crucial.
Her phone ringing startled her, and she jumped up to grab it from the countertop in the bathroom, but the world tilted a little as she stood up. She felt herself listing dangerously to one side, but before she could completely make a fool out of herself by falling on her ass, she felt warm, strong hands at her waist, steadying her. Once she was fully upright, those hands fell away from her, Zuko quickly sticking them back to his sides, not looking at her.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, heart beating at the contact. She was so fucked for him. “Suki, hi,” Katara twittered nervously into the phone.
“Where are you?” Suki shouted over the noise in the background.
“I’m um,” Katara scuffed her foot along the tile of the bathroom. “I’m still at the party. Where are you?” She asked to avoid Suki’s ability for sniffing out lies by omission.
“I’m with Ty Lee, we’re going to go back to her place. Do you want me to call you an Uber?” She asked, sounding more sober than when Katara had last seen her. It was a small mercy.
“No, don’t worry about it,” Katara said quietly. “I can walk back. I’ll be safe, I promise.”
“Wait,” Suki commanded suddenly. Katara held her breath. “Why is it quiet where you are?”
Damn her, Katara thought. Though she could still hear the music thrumming downstairs, it was quiet enough to where she couldn’t make out the lyrics. “I’m um, in the bathroom!” Which, Katara noted smugly, wasn’t really a lie.
“Uh huh,” Suki’s voice on the other end dripped with sarcasm. Katara could hear Ty Lee’s voice, telling Suki to hurry up. “Well, call me if you need anything, and text me when you get home, yeah?” Her voice was warm, affectionate.
“I will, bye,” Katara said, hanging up the call.
“I can drive you home,” Zuko offered from the bathroom doorway.
“Oh no, it’s fine, seriously,” Katara fidgeted with her phone. “I don’t live far.”
“More of a reason to let me drive you,” Zuko’s tone was cajoling. “It’s like, 2am. It’s not safe for you to walk by yourself,” he tutted.
“Er–” Katara began to protest again. “But your clothes, I’m still wearing them,” she pointed out lamely.
Zuko shook his head. “Keep them,” he shrugged. “Let me get you some water and then we can go.”
Before she could insist she was fine, Zuko had turned on a heel and left, closing the bedroom door behind him with a soft snick.
Katara’s phone buzzed in her hand.
I hope you’re having fun with Zuko, Suki’s incoming text read. Katara rolled her eyes, thankful that nobody was there to see her blush.
The door to the bedroom swung open. Zuko padded quietly inside, nudging the door closed with his foot. He offered Katara a water bottle, which she took gratefully. He stared at her as she drank, his eyes moving to a spot behind her head when she caught him.
“You like to read?” Katara asked between sips, internally kicking herself for stating the obvious.
Zuko dipped his chin in a nod. “I’ll read just about anything once. I’m pretty into sci-fi and literary fiction, but I jump around.”
Katara hummed her acknowledgement, taking another sip. “Favorite book of all time?” She asked.
“I hate that question,” he huffed a laugh. “It’s impossible to choose. On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong comes to mind, though.”
Katara’s blue eyes widened in surprise. “I love that book!” She fought back a full-on grin. Instead, she played with the plastic cap of her water bottle, now drained of its contents.
“It’s beautifully written,” Zuko agrees, standing and brushing off his pants. “Ready?” His arm twitches by his side, as if he’s debating offering her his hand, but ultimately decided against it.
Katara assented, nodding. “Let me just put on my shoes and grab my dress,” she mumbled, pointing to her strappy platform sandals which were by the bathroom door.
“Do you want to borrow slippers?” Zuko asked, staring at the uncomfortable-looking footwear.
Katara laughed lightly. “I couldn’t possibly steal those from you, too. I’m already wearing your clothes,” she pointed out. As if Zuko could forget.
He cleared his throat. “Seriously, it’s no trouble,” he entered his closet for the third time that night, depositing a pair of black, extremely fluffy slippers at Katara’s feet. Sensing her amusement at the twin Calcifers staring up at her, he added, “They were a gag gift from Azula.”
Katara snorted inelegantly, immediately embarrassed at the sound. “Cute,” she smiled, slipping her feet into them. “Thank you for dressing me in the height of fashion.”
His half-smile and soft gaze were worth coming to the party for.
The two exited the sanctuary of Zuko’s bedroom with similar expressions of dread on their faces. They’d have to face whole hordes of extremely drunk college students downstairs, the party still in full force. Zuko gestured for her to descend the stairs first, his mouth drawn into a flat line, a slight furrow between his brows.
Two familiar figures were standing at the bottom of the stairs. Azula turned to look at them as they descended, a shit-eating grin on her perfectly symmetrical face, one eyebrow raised at her brother, who just shook his head.
“Don’t,” Zuko growled as he reached the last step.
Mai, who had been leaning against the balustrade, withdrawn, glanced between the siblings before shrugging. Her black eyes widened minutely as she observed Katara, clad in what were obviously Zuko’s clothes. Her mouth twitched before pulling back down into a slight frown, eyes staring off into space.
“Don’t mind her,” Azula threw an arm in front of Mai’s chest. “She’s a little moody,” she snickered.
“Why do you have to be such a cunt?” Mai’s voice was cold, her glare icy. She gave Katara a quick once-over and stalked off in the opposite direction, Azula’s cackle trailing after her.
“We’re leaving,” Zuko told his sister, gesturing between Katara and himself.
Before his sister could make a comment, he grabbed Katara gently by her wrist, pulling her past Azula and into the dense crowd, tugging her down a hallway she hadn’t yet been down. Zuko fished his keys from the pocket of his dark jeans, inserting one into the lock on a door, before allowing Katara to step through into the room.
A garage, Katara thought dumbly, still slightly sloshed. A twelve-car garage, at that.
The sound of glass breaking was muffled through the wall, causing Katara to jump, then wince. Surely, whatever just broke probably cost a fortune. Zuko just rolled his eyes, jamming his hands into his pockets and walking down the row of cars.
There was a sleek, black two-door coupe convertible, with rims so shiny it hurt Katara’s eyes to look at for too long. A looming, giant black SUV with tinted windows followed, the step up to the cabin so high that Katara would have to get a running start to get in. Zuko stopped at the driver’s side of another black sedan, a four-door this time with black rims and what was surely an illegal tint to the windows. He touched the door handle, and the car’s interior lights came on. Before Katara could reach for the handle on the passenger side, he had jogged around and opened the door, smiling boyishly at her.
She blushed and murmured her thanks, ducking to slide into the plush leather seat.
Zuko got in, immediately turning on the seat warmer on her side. He plugged his phone in, scrolling through his Spotify until he decided on a playlist. Linger by the Cranberries filtered quietly through the speakers as the car rumbled to life, purring. He clicked a button on the roof, opening one of the garage doors and reversing out into the circular part of the driveway.
Something finally clicked in Katara’s mind.
“You live here?” She asked, incredulous. She couldn’t help but gape at him as turned the car around, driving slowly, careful to avoid people who were milling about the lawn, stumbling and shouting at one another. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. I was literally in your room like ten minutes ago.” She shook her head, scrubbing a hand over her face. She was going to have a massive hangover in the morning.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile. “Yes,” he said simply.
“Holy shit,” Katara couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re loaded.”
Zuko looked a little abashed. “Yes,” he conceded. He didn’t want to seem flippant about the egregious wealth his family, more specifically his father and grandfather, had amassed.
“What are you in school for, then?” Katara asked, gesturing at the massive home behind them, before realizing that was rude of her. “Sorry, that came out wrong,” she grimaced, suddenly fascinated in her fuzzy slippers.
“It’s alright,” Zuko laughed a little. “My father asks me that pretty often.” His hand reached up, his eyes somewhere far away, fingertips running over the left side of his face.
Katara notes that his hands are gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles are white.
He seems to compartmentalize. “I’m a political science major,” he tells her. “I started as an international business major, but I hated it,” he admits.
Katara absently hummed along to Fade Into You.
“My father’s an investment banker. He owns an investment firm that’s been in our family for ages. I was supposed to take over the business when he retired,” Zuko says, bitterness creeping into his tone.
“But?” Katara asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
“I’m shit at investing,” he laughs. “I don’t want to wake up twenty years from now, alone, and regret only ever caring about money and the business,” he glances sidelong at her.
Katara gets the feeling there’s more Zuko isn’t telling her, but she’s not the type to pry.
“Well, I think it’s great that you’re studying something you’re interested in, and not something that was predestined for you,” she stares straight ahead at the road. “I’m just here, on the right,” she tells him, pointing to a block of apartment buildings.
Wordlessly, he pulls into the resident parking lot, getting her as close to her building as possible.
She’s about to open her door when he blurts, “Let me walk you up?”
Her eyebrows raise in disbelief as she glances at him. His face is hesitant, but earnest.
Not trusting her voice, she nods. He quickly puts the car in park, turning on his hazards and vaulting out of his seat. She fights down her grin as he once again jogs to her side and opens the door for her.
The cool night air sent an involuntary shiver down Katara’s spine as she exited the coziness of the car. Zuko closed the door softly behind her, turning to follow her through the main gate and into the lobby. She nodded at the front desk person, heading for the elevator.
“You don’t have to follow me up,” Katara said, giving him an out. “I’m sure you want to get back to your house party,” she teased.
“Pfft,” Zuko snorted, “Azula begged me for weeks to throw it there. I only let her because I was hoping I’d maybe get the chance to see you there.” With that, he reached around Katara’s shoulder to press the button to call the elevator.
Blushing and shuffling her feet in his Calcifer slippers, Katara quietly said, “Oh.”
The elevator music was grating on Katara’s nerves, the infernal box moving at a glacial pace. She watched as the panel above the door signaled floor three, then four, then five. Katara could barely breathe in the enclosed space, eyes looking anywhere but Zuko as he leaned against the back wall, his hands resting lightly on the railing.
Finally, to her immense relief, the bell dinged and announced their arrival at the ninth floor, where Katara’s apartment was. She exited the elevator, trying to be as quiet as possible as it was now creeping toward 3am. Zuko followed just as quietly behind her.
She dug her keys out of her purse, gesturing at the door in front of them. “Well, this is me,” she states. She has to bite back a groan at her own awkwardness.
“I’m glad you came,” Zuko tells her honestly. “I’m sorry about your dress, though.”
“Sorry for stealing most of your wardrobe,” Katara grins, gesturing to herself.
Katara watches as his expression changes, a pained sort of look in his eyes, similar to the expression Mai wore while watching Ty Lee.
“Don’t mention it,” Zuko’s voice is nearly a whisper, his eyelids fluttering rapidly as he looks away from her. “Goodnight, Katara,” he says softly as she unlocks her door, twisting the knob.
“Night,” Katara mumbles, shutting the door quickly behind her.
She tips backward so that her head falls against the door, a hand scrubbing down her tired face. She thinks of the way he held open the car door for her, turned on the seat warmer, and let her wear his clothes. She thinks of the way he fidgeted with the cuffs of his dress shirt, the way the flames in his fireplace seemed to reach for his long, outstretched fingers, the way he couldn’t quite look at her when saying goodbye.
“Fuck,” she sighed, head still resting against the cold wood of her front door.
Exhaling shakily, she moved to step further into her apartment, stopping at what sounded like Zuko’s own head thumping against the other side of the door. Every nerve was alight in her body as she tiptoed back toward the entryway, ear pressing up against the door, manners forgotten completely.
“Fuck,” Zuko mumbled on the other side, exasperated. “You’re a coward,” he said to himself. “You blew your chance!” He punctuated this comment with another thump of his head.
Katara was sure she had never blushed so hard in her life. Fanning her face with one hand, she stumbled away from the too-thin door, cursing her own curiosity. She mechanically went through her nighttime skincare routine and stumbled into bed, her body sinking into her mattress, her limbs loose with exhaustion. She was quick to fall asleep, and if she was too tired to change out of Zuko’s clothes and into her own pajamas before climbing under her fluffy duvet, well, that was her business.
Suki had stumbled into the apartment early the next morning, looking way too smug for Katara’s hungover state.
“Coffee,” Suki said by way of greeting, shoving the plastic cup into Katara’s hand from where she stood by the bed. “We have things to discuss,” she declared.
Grateful, Katara took a long sip of iced vanilla latte, swallowing thickly as she sat against the headboard. As she did so, her duvet fell from her shoulders, pooling around her hips.
Suki flopped down on the other side of Katara’s bed, sighing as she sipped her own drink. The two sat in amiable silence as they drank, recharging their energy from the night before. Despite having spent the night out of the house, Suki still managed to look every part the sporty girl next door. She made an obnoxious slurping sound as she reached the end of her drink, depositing the empty cup on the bedside table next to Katara’s copy of Ted Chiang’s Exhalation, ice rattling.
“So,” Suki said slowly, eyeing Katara appraisingly. “Would you like to explain how you ended up sleeping in Zuko’s clothes?”
Katara choked on her latte, spluttering. Suki patted her on the back with too much force.
“I’m sure whatever ideas I can conjure in my head are ten times worse than what actually happened,” Suki waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “So, you might as well just tell me yourself before I jump to some lovely conclusions,” she winked at Katara, whose face was beet-red.
“Suki,” Katara groaned, “you’re the worst. Have I ever told you that?”
“Only every day of our lives, yeah,” Suki laughed. Giving Katara a gentle shove, she pleaded, “Please tell me! The anticipation is killing me. I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought about was whatever you two got up to last night. Swear!”
Katara gave her friend a dark look. “You’re telling me that you woke up, presumably next to Ty Lee, after having spent the entire night sucking face, and the first thing you thought of was me and Zuko?” She laughed.
Suki had the sense to look abashed. “Okay, that was the second thing I thought about.”
“Right,” Katara deadpanned.
“Right,” Suki nodded enthusiastically. Her smile turned into a smirk. “Plus, we spent the entire night doing a lot more than just sucking face.”
Suki knew her well enough to know the pillow to the face was coming, deftly rolling off the bed onto all fours before springing back up with more energy than anyone should have so early in the morning.
“Come on,” Suki tugged at Katara’s arm. “I’ll make breakfast and you can tell me all of the salacious details of your night.”
Stretching her arms above her head, hearing an audible crack in her shoulder, Katara stood from her bed, nearly tripping over her pajama bottoms. She quickly brushed her teeth and downed two ibuprofen for good measure.
“Alright,” she yawned into her palm, “but prepare to be disappointed.” She followed Suki into their kitchen.
As Suki dug in their fridge for the makings of a meal, she gasped dramatically. “Oh no,” she pouted, “was it tiny?” She cackled as Katara smacked her on the arm, pulling out a carton of eggs.
“You’re incorrigible,” Katara rolled her eyes, moving to sit at the table, content to let Suki do all of the cooking.
A plate of eggs, toast, and turkey bacon was placed in front of her ten minutes later, a glass of orange juice following not long after. She shot Suki a grateful smile before tucking into her meal, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of comfort food. Katara enjoyed the blissful calm before the storm, breathing deeply through her nose.
“So, did you fuck him?” Suki asked, practically vibrating in the seat across from her.
Katara knew it was coming, but still managed to blush anyway.
“No,” she said around a bite of scrambled eggs.
“Did he fuck you?”
“I’m not even sure I want to know what the difference between those two questions is. But the answer is still no.”
“Come on, Katara,” Suki whined. “Throw me a bone. I’m your best friend!”
Sighing, Katara rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she huffed. “After you and Ty Lee went to dance, I went to find a bathroom and a girl spilled her drink on me. Another girl, Azula, told me to go upstairs to clean up and that she’d bring a change of clothes. I thought I was in her bedroom and while I was in the bathroom cleaning my dress, Zuko came in.” Katara took a fortifying breath, giving up on trying not to blush. “He had no idea I was in there, either. I guess Azula spilled something on him on purpose so that he’d come in. He was yelling at her when he noticed the lights were on, and that I was in the bathroom.”
Suki couldn’t help but burst into laughter at Katara’s predicament.
“I’m sorry,” the girl said, wiping tears from her eyes. “But that’s fucking amazing. When can I meet Azula?” Her brown eyes were full of mirth.
“Never,” Katara gritted out, glaring at her. “She’s Zuko’s sister. Anyways, he was mortified and embarrassed when he realized that we had both been duped, and he got me something to wear.” At this, she rubbed the soft hem of the shirt. “We talked a bit, you called me and he overheard me telling you that I’d walk home. He insisted he drive me.”
Suki was nodding so vigorously that Katara paused to ask if she was okay.
“He lives there, Suki. In that big ass house!” Katara flung an arm wide.
Her roommate let out a low whistle. “Shit.”
“I know,” Katara shook her head. “Anyway, he drove me home and insisted he walk me to my door. It was kind of sweet, actually,” Katara tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Suki stared at her, mouth agape. “You like him,” she teased. “Like, really like him.”
Katara dropped her head into her hands, unable to deny it.
“He opened the car door for me,” she said, words slightly muffled. “Twice.”
Suki chuckled. “The bar is literally on the floor for straight people, I swear to God. But that’s actually kind of cute,” she shrugged, conceding the point.
“He told me to keep the clothes,” Katara continued, “and he let me wear his slippers. He got me water before we left his house,” she recounted in a robotic voice.
“Did he say anything else?” Suki planted her elbows on the table, leaning forward.
“Something about Azula and Ty Lee ‘knowing about me’ and orchestrating the whole thing? I’m not really sure. He mentioned coming to the boba shop the last few months, when I’m there.” Katara shrugged and shook her head, still not making sense of his cryptic words.
“Jesus,” Suki said flatly, “you’re one of the smartest people I know, and yet you can still be so dense.”
“Gee, thanks,” Katara bit back.
“He was trying to tell you that his sister and his friend know about you because he talked to them about you.” At this, Katara frowned.
“So what?”
“Oh my God,” Suki groaned in frustration, pulling at her roots. “How do I make this more clear? He told important people in his life about you. He told you he’s been coming to your place of work for months, but only when you’re there. What else could that possibly mean?!” Suki’s eyes were practically bulging, her face getting redder as she spluttered.
Oh, Katara thought. Oh.
“Oh fuck,” Katara swallowed the bile that threatened to rise from her throat.
“What did you say to him?” Suki pleaded.
“Um,” Katara was having trouble remembering. “Something like ‘That’s nice’? I don’t know!” She threw up her hands.
Suki was now really pulling at her hair. “Oh my God, my best friend is an idiot!” She shouted, causing Katara to wince. “You need to fix this!”
“Fix what?” Katara asked, incredulous. “We barely know each other! Nothing happened!” She insisted. “Except…”
“Except?!” Suki screeched, jumping out of her chair to shake Katara’s shoulders with vigor.
“Stop that!” Katara pried Suki’s hands off of her. “Ugh, I’m the worst,” she said.
“There there,” her friend patted her lightly on the shoulder.
“We said goodnight, and I came inside and leaned against the door for a bit. I thought he had left, but then I heard a thud.”
Suki gestured for her to continue, eyes riveted on Katara’s face.
“He was talking to himself on the other side of the door. I think the thud was him pressing his head against the door.” Katara stared out the kitchen window. “He was mumbling something about being a coward, about blowing his chance. I don’t know,” she said again.
Suki’s eye was twitching, a maniacal gleam reflecting in her irises. She cocked her head to one side. “How did you hear him so clearly, if he was on the other side, facing away?” She honed in on Katara like an apex predator would a prey animal.
“Um,” Katara scraped her fork against her empty plate. “I may have pressed my ear against the door so I could hear better?” Her shoulders were hunched by her ears, her voice small.
“You’re the worst,” Suki said, something like pride in her voice.
The campus library was packed full of students cramming for the first round of exams. Katara wove her way through rows of long, wooden tables occupied by other stressed students, strewn with notebooks and an abundance of energy drink cans. Mercifully, she found an unoccupied smaller table, tucked into an alcove in the back by the encyclopedia section.
She threw her backpack onto the worn surface covered in the names of past students written in faded black Sharpie, slumping into a seat unceremoniously. Pulling out her laptop, her headphones, and two textbooks that had no business being so heavy, Katara got to work.
Katara was lost in thought, tapping her pen against her chin absently, when a shadow blocked the light filtering in from the window next to her table. She glanced up, fighting to keep her face neutral.
“Hi,” Zuko said, fiddling with the strap of his backpack.
Removing her headphones, she set them down on the table. “Hi.”
He smiled shyly at her, still standing a decorous distance away.
“Oh,” Katara exhaled, mentally slapping herself. “Would you like to sit?” She blushed.
He nodded, dropping his backpack on the floor next to the chair opposite her before taking a seat.
“How have you been?” He asked, pulling his laptop from his bag.
“Er, good,” Katara stumbled, “Busy. And you?” She couldn't help the way her voice trembled a little.
“Same,” he gave her a small smile before getting lost in his work, one earbud in his ear.
The pair shared the table in companionable silence for the next hour. Katara couldn’t help but notice the way he kept pushing his long hair out of his eyes, the way his leg bounced underneath the table, so close to hers. She was distracted from her work often, her eyes tracing the way his fingers gripped his pen, his hand flying across the pages of his notebook.
Focus, you idiot, she thought. Your exam tomorrow is worth forty percent of your grade, and you’re sitting here distracted by someone’s hands? Get a grip.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Katara dove back into her study materials with vigor, refusing to look up at him again.
“How was the hangover?” Zuko blurted, his eyes wide as if he hadn’t meant to say it outloud. “I mean, from the other week. After the party.” His teeth clacked together audibly with the force of him shutting his jaw, a blush painted high on his cheekbones.
Katara giggled. “It wasn’t as bad as I was expecting,” she shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t want your clothes back? I’m sure you’re awfully fond of those slippers, especially,” she teased, raising a brow at him.
His smile was fond. “Nah,” he waved her off. “It was the least I could do after my sister’s meddling,” he rolled his eyes.
“Was your house completely trashed?” She asked, brows furrowed.
Zuko shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as the last party Azula had thrown there. At least nobody broke a limb this time,” his shoulders shook with laughter.
Katara’s eyes widened. “Are you always such an optimist?” She couldn’t help but laugh.
“That depends, will it get you to look at me like that more often?” His expression was bashful.
She inhaled sharply, the smile falling off her face as she blushed, her eyes going wide.
“I’m going to go grab a coffee,” he said quickly. “Do you want anything?”
She smiled tentatively. “An iced chai would be nice.”
“Got it,” Zuko stood from the table, pushing up the sleeves of his henley, black this time. “Be right back.” He had the audacity to wink at her as he turned away.
Katara squeaked out some sort of acknowledgement, face flaming, before scowling at her laptop. Damn him.
Before her blush had the chance to dissipate, someone approached, clearing their throat.
“Oh, hi,” Katara greeted, staring up at Azula.
“You’re studying with Zuzu?” Azula asked, her lips pursed.
Katara blinked slowly at the girl. “We’re sharing a table. The library is busy,” she added, unhelpfully. She couldn’t help but squirm under Azula’s hawk-like stare, still blushing.
“Hm,” Azula replied cryptically.
“Do you want to sit?” Katara asked, gesturing to the open seat that her brother had just vacated.
Azula waved her off, pulling out her phone instead.
Katara shrugged and began taking notes on another set of lecture slides, trying to ignore Azula’s golden eyes boring into the top of her head.
“Azula,” Zuko said in surprise as he approached the table, holding a cup in each hand.
He set down Katara’s drink in front of her, Azula’s gaze sharpening as she tracked the movement. Katara squirmed in her seat.
“You really are a creature of habit, Zuzu,” Azula drawled, examining her black stiletto nails with false boredom.
Zuko was still standing, his shoulders tense as he set down his own drink before turning to face Azula, blocking her from Katara’s view. Katara watched the siblings as they conversed silently, Zuko’s fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. After what felt like hours, Azula stepped around Zuko, staring down her nose at Katara.
“I only mean that he’s done this song and dance before,” her voice was low, almost clinical. “You’ve met Jin?” Azula’s lips twisted up into a cruel smirk.
Dumbly, Katara nodded, not trusting her voice. Her heart rate picked up at what Azula was implying, her hands going cold.
“Don’t,” Zuko growled, gripping Azula’s upper arm.
His sister shook him off. “I just think it’s funny,” she continued, sounding very amused with herself and whatever game they were playing. “Jin’s favorite drink was also an iced chai, remember?” She tilted her head upward to meet Zuko’s intense glare, cocking her head to one side, her foot tapping on the faded blue carpet.
“Goodbye, Azula,” Zuko gritted out, the muscle in his jaw clenching.
Katara watched, frozen, as Azula turned her cruel, cunning smile back on her. “Bye, Katara,” she waved innocently before sauntering off the way she came.
She let out a breath, blinking rapidly while trying to make sense of what just happened. Zuko was pinching the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply.
“I’m sorry about her,” Zuko murmured, wincing.
“Er,” Katara stammered, mechanically closing her laptop and slamming her textbooks shut, shoving everything into her bag with haste. “I think I’ll just go,” she stood jerkily, nodding more to herself than him.
Before Zuko could say much, Katara shouldered her heavy backpack and was gone, ignoring Zuko’s urgent whisper of her name, echoing in her mind as she left out the back door to the library and onto the street.
Leaning against the rough stone wall behind the library, Katara tried to control her breathing, her head spinning. Jin, the girl who spilled her drink on Katara. Jin, whose drink order was also an iced chai, apparently. Jin, who Zuko had also bought coffee for, recently enough for Azula to remember it.
Katara wasn’t so deluded as to think that Zuko buying her coffee meant he liked her. But that, in conjunction with his boyish but awkward charm, self-deprecating jokes and flirtatious winks, and especially the thoughtfulness and care from the night of the party, had made Katara think that maybe he just liked her especially. How foolish she had been.
What was it Suki had told her? Oh my God, my best friend is an idiot!
Katara was lost in thought as she did the dishes, the spray of the sink’s hose drowning out the sounds from the front of the shop. It was slow tonight, and Suki wasn’t there to distract Katara, so her shift had gone by in relative silence.
The past few days had passed by in a blur, and she still couldn’t seem to make sense of things. Wincing, Katara recalled the way Zuko blocked his sister from view, tense and anxious as he anticipated her game, the way he called after her as she bolted. She knew that Zuko didn’t owe her anything, that they weren’t together in any sense of the word. If he wanted to buy coffee for every pretty girl he met, that was his business. So why did she feel like she had been played?
She finished loading the last round of dishes into the dishwasher, sighing as she began to untie her apron. The bell jingled above the door, and Katara glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:45 it read, just fifteen minutes before closing. Taking a deep breath, she tightened the strings on her apron, about to step through the curtain that separated her from the front.
Katara stopped short at the sound of his voice, letting the curtain fall back into place.
“Nevermind,” she heard Zuko say, voice strained. “I’ll come back another time.”
“Are you sure?” Emi, her coworker asked. “I can go grab her.”
Katara watched through the tiny sliver of space in the curtain, unable to breathe. Zuko shook his head minutely, his lips pulled down into a frown. Her heart was hammering in her chest.
“Sorry to have bothered you,” Zuko nodded stiffly at the girl, a sickly tinge to his face.
“Have a good rest of your night!” Emi called to his retreating back as he left the shop in a hurry.
Katara stepped out of the way, anticipating Emi barreling through the curtain.
“Who was that?’ The girl asked imploringly. “Was he a friend of yours?”
Great question, I have no idea, Katara thought.
“Sort of. We know each other,” she replied, voice stilted.
Emi’s green eyes were wide, expectant. “Uh huh,” she crossed her arms. “He seemed pretty intent on talking to you,” she mused. “He got nervous when I said you were here.”
Katara cleared her throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we be closing up now?” She pointed to the clock on the wall.
Emi assessed her, from the way she fiddled with her necklace pendant to the blush that now seemed permanent on her cheeks. “Okay,” the girl shrugged, though her tone was skeptical.
Katara let out a breath, groaning softly to herself. She was so fucked.
“Come on,” Sokka cajoled, mouth full of potato chips as he kicked his feet up on Katara’s coffee table. “I thought that Teen Titans was your favorite cartoon!” He slung an arm over Yue’s shoulder on the couch.
“Sokka,” Katara grumbled, slumping into the armchair next to him, “I told you I’m not in the mood for a Halloween party.” She eyed him with mild disgust as he belched.
“You like him?” Katara side-eyed Yue.
Yue’s laugh was bright as silver bells, her light blue eyes twinkling as she glanced affectionately at Sokka. “I do,” she said with a small, private smile.
Katara’s eye twitched at the intimacy, the smile on her face pasted on.
“Why won’t you just talk to him?” Suki asked from the kitchen. “I’m sure Azula was just fucking with you. It seems exactly like something she’d do.”
Katara covered her face with a hand. “And how would you know that?” She bit out.
Suki entered from the kitchen, carrying the tray of brownies she and Yue had just baked, setting them on the coffee table as far away from Sokka’s feet as the size of the table would allow.
“She’s Ty Lee’s best friend,” Suki shrugged, sitting criss-cross on the floor.
“Anyway,” Sokka cut in, “Yue and I are going as Princess Kida and Milo from Atlantis!”
Yue nodded enthusiastically, her white hair fanning across her face. “It’ll be fun,” she told her.
“Ty Lee and I are going as Megan and Graham from But I’m a Cheerleader,” Suki chirped before taking a huge bite of brownie, humming contentedly.
“Right,” Katara drawled, sighing. “That makes sense for you guys,” she pointed at the three of them, “considering you’re all in relationships!” She threw up her arms in frustration. “I’m not, and the last thing I want to do is go to another one of Azula’s insane parties and watch Zu– I mean, people, making out with each other all night!” Her voice was high-pitched, strained with the effort of not thinking about Zuko and Jin together in any capacity.
“I thought he really liked you, though,” Yue said evenly, popping a chip into her mouth.
“He does,” Suki and Sokka said simultaneously.
“He does not,” Katara leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she gripped at her hair.
“Katara, please,” Suki reached out, patting her on the leg. “You might be book smart, but god damn I’ve never met anyone as oblivious about other peoples’ feelings as you.”
Suki laughed as Katara swatted her shoulder. “I’m serious! He let you wear his clothes, he drove you home from his house party, and walked you up to your apartment at 3am. You heard him groan about ‘blowing his chance’! What else could that possibly mean, if not for him having a big, fat crush on you?”
Katara waved her hand as if she could delete Suki’s words from the ether. “He’s just polite. He probably had etiquette classes as a kid. I think rich families still do that,” she rambled, biting into the corner of a brownie.
“If I may,” Yue interrupted politely. “It’s true that some wealthy families put their children into behavior and elocution lessons, speaking from experience,” she reached out to rest a hand on Sokka’s leg. “Regardless, he does seem to like you in particular. I mean, why else would he tell you he’s been showing up at your work for months, but only when you’re there?” Her eyes were kind as she pleaded with Katara.
“Exactly!” Suki pointed an accusatory finger at Katara.
“Oh really?” Katara huffed, “Then why would he come to the shop to ask if I was there, only to change his mind and walk out?” Her face was smug.
Suki’s voice was pained, gentle even, as she put her arms on Katara’s shoulders, kneeling on the floor. “Katara,” she said slowly, “I don’t know how else to tell you this.” She shook her head as if she were speaking to an especially slow child. “He’s scared of you.”
“Scared of me?” Katara squawked in disbelief before she burst out laughing.
Her shoulders shook as she cackled, arms around her middle as she doubled over, her face planted in between her knees.
“Katara?” Sokka said lightly from his spot on the couch. “Are you…okay?”
“I’m fine,” Katara’s voice was muffled. Were those tears on her face? She couldn’t tell.
“Are you crying?” Suki asked, hovering at her shoulder.
Katara sniffled. “Maybe?”
Quickly, she stood from the chair, wiping furiously at her damp cheeks.
“I’ll be right back,” she announced, taking measured, even steps down the hall and into her bedroom. Shutting the door quietly behind her, Katara let out a breath. Get it the fuck together, he’s just a boy. Are you really going to let him ruin your favorite holiday? She glared at herself in the mirror hanging on the back of her door. She took in her face, red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks, mouth set into grim determination.
Taking another fortifying breath, she padded back into the living room. Sokka, Yue, and Suki turned to her, wearing similar expressions of concern.
“I’m fine,” Katara reassured them, standing tall. “Should I be Starfire, do you think?”
Sokka laughed, nudging Yue’s shoulder.
Suki’s smirk was devilish as she tipped her head toward Katara. “Perfect.”
Katara tugged on the silver armband of her costume as they approached the winding driveway leading up to the house. She listened absently as Ty Lee chatted with Suki about their hot yoga instructor, Ty Lee’s pom poms rustling as she sashayed up the path. Trailing behind, Sokka and Yue walked with their heads bent toward one another, talking quietly, Sokka periodically shifting his round glasses up his nose.
The country home somehow felt even larger now than it did the first time, currently decked out in Halloween decor. The exterior lights were an eerie, muted green, and fog machines blew thick, acrid smoke at people who spilled out onto the lawn, dressed in costumes that left little to the imagination. Black, amorphous animatronics sprung out at unsuspecting couples sneaking around in the hedges, looking for a secluded spot to make out. The giant, ornate front doors were swung wide, the entryway to the house lit by strobe lights of blue, pink, and green, illuminating the dense crowd packed inside. As their group approached, Katara could make out the to-scale guillotine that guests had to step through before entering, the chopping block stained with fake blood.
“Come on!” Ty Lee whooped, grabbing Suki’s hand in hers, stepping through the guillotine.
Squaring her shoulders, Katara followed, Sokka and Yue close behind.
Once inside, Katara immediately wrinkled her nose. It was sweltering, the press of bodies nearly suffocating, the now-familiar scent of perfume and perspiration an unwelcome addition.
“Backyard!” Ty Lee shouted over Heads Will Roll, her arm raising above her head to shake her pom pom toward the back of the house.
The five of them stumbled through the crowd blindly, through the kitchen and into the formal dining room, before finding the sliding glass door that led into the backyard. They were practically shoved out of the house, which was packed to the gills.
Katara breathed in deeply, having missed being able to do so while inside.
A DJ booth was set up on a raised platform at one end of the backyard, a techno remix of Somebody’s Watching Me blasting from tower speakers on either side. A crowd of drunk college kids jumping around below, precariously close to falling into the gigantic pool. The DJ, a boy Katara recognized from one of her classes, his red satin Playboy robe billowing in the breeze, held court while shotgunning a beer, crushing the can against his skull when empty.
Katara wondered about how much of a safety hazard it was to allow drunk people in a pool, observing the groups of friends and couples floating about in inner tubes or sitting on the edge with their legs over the side, splashing each other and slapping wine bags.
Ty Lee’s voice drew Katara’s focus in.
“Over there,” the girl directed, pointing at a massive in-ground fire pit dotted with lounge chairs, fairy lights strung overhead in a sort of canopy.
People were milling about the space, drinking and laughing and cheering at what appeared to be a very serious arm wrestling competition. Katara gulped as she saw that one of the competitors was Azula, the other, a man twice her size. Luckily, Zuko was nowhere to be found, which Katara considered a win.
The group approached just as Azula slammed the man’s arm on the plastic table in victory, hollering in his face. He laughed, shaking her hand, before going to watch some others play beer die.
“Azula!” Ty Lee bounded up to her friend, kissing her on both cheeks.
Katara raised a brow, surprised that Azula let her.
Azula turned toward the rest of them, eyeing them all with a haughty air of disdain only she could achieve, despite being shorter than all of them. Her golden eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she took in Katara’s costume, before sliding over to Ty Lee, giving her a sly look.
Katara fought the urge to cover her bare stomach, the intensity of Azula’s gaze setting her teeth on edge.
She tapped her foot on the cobblestone, assessing Katara with a critical eye. Her own costume, presumably Yumeko Jabami from Kakegurui, was definitely fitting for her, Katara thought. Azula’s hair was pin-straight down her back, short, blunt bangs covering her forehead. She wore a dark red blazer, buttoned over a white oxford, a black pleated miniskirt, black tights, and dark brown loafers. Her eyes were thickly lined in black, her dark red lipstick reflecting the lights overhead.
“I like the pink hair,” Azula said finally, pointing to the waist-length wig on Katara’s head. She sounded almost genuine.
Katara shrugged, “Thanks. I don’t think you’ve met,” she said, gesturing to Sokka and Yue. “This is Sokka, my brother, and his girlfriend, Yue.”
“What’s up,” Sokka nodded, hand around Yue’s waist.
“Nice to meet you,” Yue said serenely, her hair glowing under the multicolored fairy lights as they cycled from red, to green, to blue, and then back.
Azula’s chin dipped in acknowledgement, before walking to the fully stocked, outdoor bar. “Help yourselves,” she waved casually at the assortment of bottles strewn about.
Ty Lee and Suki grabbed a bottle of tequila, giggling to themselves before pouring a generous amount into two red plastic cups, offering them to Sokka and Yue.
Not quite feeling up for the task yet, Katara made her way to the end of the bar.
“Mai,” Katara greeted the girl, leaning a hip against the sleek surface. “It’s nice to see you again,” she smiled slightly.
Mai huffed, adjusting one of the black ribbons holding the braids together on the silver-blonde wig on her head. Her costume matched Azula’s, but Mai’s lipstick was a cool, slate blue that made her pale skin glow.
“Azula loves that show,” Mai jerked her head toward Katara’s costume. “They watched it a ton growing up,” she said quietly.
Katara just nodded, shuffling her feet.
Sokka slung an arm over her shoulder, leaning most of his weight on her.
“Sister,” he slurred a little, “Ty Lee’s making us do shots,” his head lolled onto her shoulder.
Katara grimaced. “Fine,” she said, adjusting his arm so that it was no longer digging into her collarbone. “You coming?” She asked Mai.
Mai shrugged, pulling down her blazer before following them to the fire pit. She deposited Sokka in the lounge chair next to Yue, who was handling her liquor much better, the only indication of her drunkenness the faint blush staining her brown skin. Yue reached out, slinging his arm around her bare shoulders.
Ty Lee was sitting on Suki’s lap, one arm thrown around the back of her neck, pom poms forgotten on the floor by their feet. Suki’s arm was thrown casually around Ty Lee’s bare waist, idly stroking at the skin there. At Katara’s and Mai’s arrival, Ty Lee squealed.
“Shots!” The cheerleader said, leaning forward off of Suki’s lap to grab the bottle of tequila.
Katara glanced sidelong at Mai as they both accepted cups from Ty Lee, noting that her eyes had tightened around the edges, her lips downturned. Quickly, Katara downed the shot of tequila before she could rethink her decision, grimacing at the taste. Mai did the same, but her cold, beautiful face was stoic as she placed the cup down on the rim of the fire pit, the flames dancing in her dark eyes.
Yue poured them all another round, and they all toasted one another before tipping the contents of their cups down their throats. Suki and Ty Lee seemed to have an unspoken competition to see who could finish three shots the fastest, Ty Lee cheering loudly as she won. Suki pretended to pout at her girlfriend, and then Ty Lee was sticking her tongue down Suki’s throat as a consolation prize.
The sound of plastic being crushed to her right drew Katara’s eyes back to Mai, who was still staring into the fire pit, unblinkingly. Confused, Katara searched her face before landing on the red cup, which now sat crumpled in her fist, the last dregs of tequila dripping onto the concrete beneath her feet.
Huh, that’s interesting, Katara mused drunkenly. Feeling loose and a little hazy, Katara leaned back against the cushions of her chair, pleasantly warm all over. She listened to the crowd around her, the sound of people clapping to the beat of Thriller, cannonballing into the pool, a group of guys cheering as their team won at beer die.
“Let’s go dance,” Ty Lee stood suddenly, pulling Suki into a seated position on the lounge chair. She bent over to grab her pom poms before pulling Suki to stand, adjusting the collar of her pink shirt.
The two stumbled off in the direction of the house, giggling.
Katara couldn’t help but notice Mai watching Ty Lee’s retreating form as she sat by the fire, the overhead lights turning the near-white canvas of Mai’s hair red, then green, then blue, as she sipped her drink and watched them go.
An hour later, after another drink and a lively debate with some other students about the merits of cosmetic plastic surgery, Katara moved to stand, tugging at her knee-high boot.
“Want to go inside?” Yue asked, leaning in close.
Katara nodded, beginning to pick her way along the cobblestone path leading back into the house. Once inside, she quickly lost sight of Yue’s nearly-iridescent hair, and she shrugged. The last thing she wanted to do was third-wheel all night. Stumbling down an unfamiliar hallway, Katara came across a long line for the bathroom.
Someone wearing a Frozone costume was currently banging both fists on the wooden door, shouting, “I know you’re fucking in there! Hurry the fuck up so I can take a piss!”
Katara covered her mouth as she laughed, continuing down the hall, the thrum of the music getting progressively more muffled. It was brighter here, and her eyes took a few seconds to adjust. She stumbled into a gilded picture frame, gasping as her hands jerked to straighten it out before it fell.
“Oh shit,” she said under her breath as she glanced at the portrait inside the frame.
It was a family photo, clearly professionally taken in a studio somewhere. Sitting in a wing-backed, black leather chair was an imposing male figure, dressed in a crisp three-piece suit. His long, black hair was pinned away from the severe planes of his face. Standing at his shoulder, a wraith-thin woman with a youthful, heart-shaped face, had one slim hand resting on the man’s shoulder, a diamond glittering on her ring finger. Standing directly in front of her was a little girl with chin-length black hair, no more than five or six, wearing a familiar, haughty expression, her eyes golden. Azula, Katara thought. She almost didn’t want to look at the last of the four people in the frame, but couldn’t stop herself.
It was undeniably Zuko, around seven or eight years old. Katara gasped softly as she took in his face, rounder in his youth, the skin unmarred on the left side. His hair was longer then, pulled into a topknot, his mouth in a straight line. She stopped her hand from where it hovered an inch from the glass.
Katara’s heart was thumping as she stumbled back the way she came, feeling like she had overstepped some boundary. Her toe caught on what looked like somebody’s long forgotten, half-empty beer, and she tripped forward a little, catching herself on someone coming from the opposite direction.
“Oof,” she said, her face bumping clumsily into their chest.
Warm hands gripped Katara under the elbows, steadying her. Katara’s eyes were straining to adjust to the dark, the strobe lights only illuminating the person in front of her for a second at a time. She could just make out a black circle with a yellow “R” in the middle before they spoke.
“Katara?” The person asked, incredulous.
The blood drained from Katara’s face as she took a healthy step backward, forcing him to let go of her elbows.
“Zuko, hi,” Katara grimaced, blinking rapidly.
He was wearing a Robin costume.
“Are you alright?” He asked, hands resting limply at his sides.
I am going to kill them.
“Fine,” she said, a little shrill, not meeting his intense stare.
He stared down at her, his black eye mask reflecting the strobe lights for a moment.
“Can we talk?” He asked quietly, his spine rigid.
Katara heaved in a lungful of air. It was definitely the alcohol that had her nodding automatically.
He seemed to untense a little at her easy acquiescence. He opened his mouth, shutting it forcefully. He opened it again. “Not here,” he told her, pointing at the lights and the crowd.
She allowed herself to be pulled along, Zuko’s hand a light pressure against her wrist. He used his height to his advantage, politely shoving through the throng of wasted college students, making sure Katara didn’t have to squeeze through too-tight spaces. She stared at the ground as they climbed the spiral staircase, Zuko not letting go of her wrist once they were upstairs, despite the absence of the crowd. He opened his bedroom door, gesturing for her to enter.
A fire was crackling merrily in the hearth, the overhead lights dim. Katara could just see the full moon from one of the bedroom windows. She heard the door close behind her, suddenly very self conscious of her costume choice. Fucking Suki, she cursed.
“Please, sit,” Zuko’s voice was stilted as he motioned to the set of armchairs by the fire. He untied the eye mask, pulling it off and letting it drop to the ground
Though the distance from the doorway to the chair was no more than ten steps, Katara felt his amber eyes boring into the back of her skull as she walked the great length. She perched lighty on the edge of the seat, arms folded neatly in her lap.
She heard him sigh, footsteps silent as he came to sit in the chair across from her.
“Katara,” he began.
Suddenly, she didn’t think she was strong enough for this conversation.
“Zuko,” she interrupted, “it’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she said into the flames.
“But I–” he tried again.
“Really, it’s fine. You can buy coffee for whoever you want. You don’t owe me anything,” her voice wavered.
“Can you please look at me?” He asked, voice barely a whisper.
She blinked once, twice, before slowly turning her head to face him.
The expression on his face was wretched. His eyes were bright with things left unsaid, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth downturned. His hands were gripping his knees, his body bent toward her at the waist.
“I understand if you don’t want to speak to me again after this,” he let out a shaky breath, “but will you please let me explain? It’s not a matter of want, it’s a matter of need,” his eyes were round, pleading.
Katara swallowed the lump in her throat. Don’t be a coward, she thought.
She nodded, and he exhaled shakily again.
“There is no one else,” his stare was intense. “There hasn’t been, not for a while now.”
“But Azula–” Katara interjected.
Zuko narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought I was the one explaining here,” he chided lightly.
Katara’s mouth quirked into a half-smile as she blushed. “Go ahead, sorry.”
“Azula has an unconventional sense of humor,” Zuko said. “We haven’t always had the best relationship, and like all siblings, she knows how to get on my nerves,” his fingers absently touch his scar.
“I swear, Katara, she was messing with you on purpose. Jin is just a friend, and frankly, she’s more Azula’s friend than she is mine. That’s why my sister remembered her drink order. It wasn’t because I had gone out with Jin, or anyone else, recently.” He bit the inside of his cheek, looking at Katara.
Katara shook her head slowly, still not understanding.
“I told you at the last party that Azula and Ty Lee knew about you,” Zuko paused, watching Katara nod. “Azula knocked into Jin, who then knocked into you, spilling her drink on your dress.”
At this admission, Katara’s eyes went wide. Zuko winced.
“I know, my sister is crazy. It’s okay, you can say it,” he laughed a little.
“I mean, I knew that in theory, she was. But damn,” Katara couldn’t help the smile forming on her face.
Zuko huffed. “Yeah, well try growing up with her. Anyway, Jin and I went on a coffee date once,” he held up his index finger, “and that was three years ago now, when we were freshmen. We both decided we were better off as friends.” His voice was unwavering.
“Why not try to stop me, then?” Katara whispered, eyes staring at her lap. “That day, in the library.”
“Of course I tried,” Zuko admitted, “but you left so quickly and you were clearly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” His expression was pained as he recalled the memory. “I came to the boba shop, looking for you, but then I chickened out and left before your coworker could tell you that I was there,” he admitted, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. His cheeks were red.
“I know,” Katara said softly.
Zuko’s eyes snapped to hers. “You do? How?”
“I watched you through the curtain,” she mumbled.
Zuko seemed to hold his breath.
“I’m sorry I left like that,” Katara continued. “I should have at least let you explain before shutting you out. But Zuko, you don’t owe me anything either way. You’re free to do whatever you want in your spare time,” she hedged, not meeting his eyes.
Zuko tipped his head against the back of the armchair, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He inhaled slowly through his nose, pinching the bridge of it with one hand. His other hand was balled into a fist on the arm of the chair. Katara pretended not to stare at the way his broad shoulders tensed, or the way his biceps looked in short sleeves.
“Right,” Zuko seemed to compose himself, somewhat, leaning forward again. “Katara, forgive me for the way I’m about to say this, but I think if I try to explain it with any more subtlety, it’ll only elude you.” His face was pinched.
She huffed a little, crossing her arms, but stayed silent.
“I like you,” he told her plainly, “I have for months.”
Katara’s mouth dropped open inelegantly. He held up a hand to stop her from speaking.
“I came into the boba shop weekly, because I like you. I told Azula and Ty Lee about you, because I like you. I let you wear my clothes, because I like you. Though I’ll admit that I couldn’t stop looking at you in them, so that was more than just me being nice.” His face was open, honest. “I walked you up to your apartment, because I like you. I found you in the library, because I like you. I winked at you and bought you coffee, because I like you. I can’t think of the last time that I wasn’t thinking about you.” He shook his head, fringe falling into his eyes.
“Oh,” Katara said on an exhale, her heart doing front somersaults in her chest.
“I understand if you still don’t want to talk to me,” Zuko started again, eyes looking out his bedroom window, “but if there’s still a chance, then please–”
It was Halloween night. The veil between worlds grew thin. Thresholds disappeared and boundaries grew permeable, inhibitions lowered. Infinite universes could collide and meld together, the stars of one lingering lovingly in the shadows of another. Maybe there was a space for them to meet in the in-between.
Katara surged forward out of her chair without a second thought, her lips crashing into his indelicately, cutting him off.
Zuko went stock still for a moment, before he melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle her face gently. She gasped, one hand moving to card through the hair at the back of his head, the other braced on his thigh as she teetered precariously on her knees. Suddenly, his hands were on her waist, pulling them both to stand, not breaking the kiss. His warm hand glided over the bare skin of her back, making her shiver involuntarily. He bit gently on her bottom lip, and she inhaled sharply at the sensation. Zuko took this opportunity to press his tongue into her mouth, tipping her head back as he did so. He tilted her head to the side, his mouth kissing a hot trail down the column of her throat, before he kissed her exposed collarbone. His heavy breathing was in sync with the rise and fall of her own chest, his forehead resting in the crook where her shoulder met her neck.
“Does this mean you like me?” Zuko mumbled, mouthing at the soft skin below her ear.
She couldn’t help the peal of laughter that erupted out of her chest at the question. He straightened up to search her face for something.
“Yeah, I think I do,” she smirked at him, her arms looping around his neck as she kissed the tip of his nose.
“Thank fucking God,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut, a soft smile on his pretty face.
Katara couldn’t help but giggle at the undeniable relief in his voice. Blushing and breathing hard, she pulled away from him, his body leaning forward to close the gap between them as she did so, his arms outstretched for her.
She reached a hand up to fiddle with the green cape around his neck. “Robin, huh?” She mused.
“I should have known,” he looked her up and down, his eyes warm. “Ty Lee insisted I wear it. Kept mentioning how we were obsessed with the show as children,” he shook his head, hair falling into his eyes.
“My brother did the same,” Katara admitted softly. “Suki must have told Ty Lee when I agreed to be Starfire,” at this, she rolled her eyes. “God, I was so stupid,” she laughed self-deprecatingly.
Zuko sighed, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “If it’s any comfort, so was I.” His cheek dimpled as the left side of his mouth formed a half-smile. He bent his head toward her, his arm looping around her waist.
A sudden bang on the door had the pair springing apart from each other, as if burned.
“Zuko!” Azula’s voice called from the other side, “Someone’s streaking in the backyard.”
Zuko made a long-suffering sound of discontent, giving Katara a bleak look.
“Go away!” Zuko yelled back.
Katara could just barely make out the string of expletives Azula muttered from outside.
“It’s one of Jet’s friends,” Azula’s voice was dry.
At this, Katara’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. Surely, she couldn’t possibly mean…
Zuko groaned, his head tipping backward. He gave Katara an apologetic look before unlocking the door, pulling it open to reveal his sister, her costume still perfectly in-tact despite the absolute chaos of the party.
Azula had the good sense to look mildly surprised at the sight of Katara, standing behind Zuko.
“Oh,” she blinked, “I’d say I was sorry for interrupting, but I’m really not,” she shrugged.
“Well, thanks for making the effort anyway,” Katara quipped.
Zuko shot her a surprised, but admiring look from over his shoulder. Azula laughed sharply.
“Glad to see you two finally sorted out your…issues,” Azula cocked a hip, lips pursed.
“Thanks,” Zuko deadpanned. “The streaker?” He asked, gesturing for Azula to lead the way back downstairs and out into the yard, reaching a hand back for Katara to hold.
Shrugging, she followed the siblings down the staircase, holding back a laugh as Azula stopped at the bottom step, waiting for Zuko to carve a path for them to walk through. Once out and into the yard, Katara’s jaw dropped open.
True to Azula’s word, someone was streaking in an erratic back-and-forth pattern across the immaculate lawn, screeching at the top of his lungs as he did so. The only article of clothing on him was a tan cowboy hat. A crowd of drunken observers were looking on in stupefaction, unsure of what to do but unable to avert their eyes.
“Fuck,” Zuko cursed softly. “It’s Pipsqueak.”
“Who?” Katara and Azula asked, staring at Zuko as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Zuko turned to his sister. “Why is he even here?” He asked. “Who invited Jet?” His voice was laced with frustration.
“Fuck if I know,” Azula shrugged. “Go do something,” she commanded, giving her brother a strong shove. “It’s your house.” She played with the cuff of her blazer.
Zuko stumbled forward a step, glaring at her. “It’s yours too. What am I supposed to do? Chase after him?” He scoffed.
Azula just nodded at him, her arms open as if to challenge him. What are you waiting for?
“I’m so sorry,” Zuko addressed Katara, turning on her. “Let me handle whatever this is,” he said with clear distaste.
He removed the bright green cape from around his neck so that he didn’t look ridiculous chasing after the streaker, grimacing at the cheap polyester as it pooled underneath his feet. “Fucking Ty Lee,” he grumbled as he stared down at the cape.
Katara giggled behind her hand, unable to help her amusement at the situation and Zuko’s obvious distaste for the costume.
She and Azula watched on as Zuko jogged across the lawn, shouting “Hey!” At the person giving the crowd a show. Azula snickered as some people in the crowd began to boo him, calling him a party pooper. Zuko picked up speed, trying to corral the other man, but he hesitated, not wanting to actually have to make physical contact. Katara’s eyes danced across the lawn as Zuko and the cowboy danced around each other, the cowboy faking a left before sprinting off to the right, howling with laughter.
Another figure bounded onto the lawn, seeming to come to Zuko’s aid. He was wearing a Spartan helmet, in addition to traditional Roman warrior gear, and was shouting something that Katara couldn’t hear from this distance. Working together, Zuko and the Roman managed to trip the cowboy, sending him sprawling across the grass in a magnificent belly flop. There, he laid face down on the lawn, his cowboy hat resting somewhere to the left.
Azula cackled, sauntering over to the trio, Katara trailing behind her, fighting her own laugh.
The Roman untied the top part of his costume, draping it over the cowboy’s prone form. He removed his bronze helmet, and Katara gasped, taking a step back.
Jet stood on the lawn, staring bemusedly down at his friend, looking the same as the last time Katara had seen him, years ago. Her ex-boyfriend Jet. Of course this was her life. Azula turned, having reached the group, an expectant look on her face as she waited for Katara to catch up. The toe of her brown loafer prodded at the streaker’s arm.
Zuko stood slightly further away from the other two boys, a light sheen of sweat visible across his forehead. Katara approached slowly, glancing from the person on the ground, to Zuko, to Jet, and then back.
“How have you been?” Jet’s gravelly voice addressed Azula.
“Tch,” Azula sneered, giving him a once-over.
Zuko’s voice was low in warning, “Azula, play nice,” he rubbed a hand over his face.
Katara shuffled over to Zuko’s right side, as far from Jet as possible. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her in her costume, Katara thought, grasping at straws.
“Katara?” Jet’s voice was disbelieving as he turned toward her.
“Um, hi,” she replied, glancing at her purple boots.
Zuko, sensing her discomfort, put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close. He cleared his throat, staring down his nose at Jet.
“I think you should get Pipsqueak up and leave,” Zuko’s voice was firm, though not unkind.
Jet nodded silently, his lips downturned. He looked like he had more to say, but glanced at Katara and Azula, thinking better of it.
Glancing up surreptitiously through her lashes, she saw the look of pure shock on Jet’s face as he looked between her and Zuko. She and Jet had dated for a little over a year back in high school. Their breakup was awkward and one-sided, Jet pleading with her to stay together, Katara adamant that they were incompatible. Surely, he couldn’t still be upset at her for what they did as teenagers?
Jet stooped down to his friend, mumbling something in his ear before standing again, jogging over to another group of people on the lawn. He returned with three other people, the four men then hoisting up Pipsqueak under his beefy arms, dragging him through the grass away from the excitement.
“How do you know Jet?” She and Zuko blurted at the same time, both of them with identical pained expressions on their faces.
Zuko gestured for her to go first.
She scuffed her heel against the trimmed grass, taking a deep breath.
“He’s my ex. From high school,” she admitted quietly, her eyes downcast.
Zuko made a choking sound in the back of his throat, his arm tightening around her shoulders as he stared down at her.
At this, Azula doubled over next to them, her hands on her knees as she cackled.
“Oh my God,” she said, blotting at the tears on her face. “No really,” she continued, observing both Katara and Zuko’s bewildered expressions, “please continue, this is great.” She took a deep breath, staring at them expectantly.
“How do you know him?” Katara repeated, twisting so that she was facing Zuko fully.
“Uh,” Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “We played club soccer together in the off-season a few years back,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “He was um, really good? And we started spending more time together and I…I guess he’s kind of my ex too,” he winced, as if he expected an attack.
Katara’s mouth dropped open in shock, the blood draining from her face. Azula was practically vibrating next to them, waiting for Katara’s reaction to Zuko’s revelation with bated breath.
“Your ex?” Katara asked, her voice slightly shrill. She shook her head.
“Fuck my life,” Zuko groaned, tugging at his hair. “How is this even possible?” He seemed to ask the universe, his head tipped up toward the endless sky.
Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe the intensity of Zuko’s earlier confession, that had knocked Katara off-balance and into the realm of the hysterical. She copied a move from Azula’s book, doubling over and bracing her hands on her knees as her body shook with unrestrained laughter. Azula tipped her head back, crowing with laughter before shaking her head and walking off toward the fire pit.
Zuko stood tense, stoic by her side as he watched her dissolve into giggles. Katara stared up at him through watery eyes, noting the mortified expression on his beautiful face. She snorted at his genuinely concerned expression, entering into another laughing fit. It was clear that Zuko was trying hard not to laugh at her, but he couldn’t contain his own chuckle when she snorted for a second time, his shoulders shaking with restraint.
Katara straightened out after another minute, wiping at her face.
“Jesus Christ,” she said thickly, her eyes twinkling as she reached out for Zuko’s hand.
He flipped her hand over, his index finger tracing the lines of her palm as he searched her face for something. Katara reached up on her toes, placing a gentle kiss against his pouting mouth. He sighed a little as she pulled away, his mouth chasing hers.
“You’re the worst,” she giggled, hiccuping as he pulled her to him.
He kissed her again. “Tell me again,” he whispered against her lips, his fingers tangled in her hair.
She kissed him. “You’re everything,” she hummed against his mouth, her hand reaching up to trace the edges of his scar.
“Again,” he pleaded, his eyes half-lidded, his pupils blown wide.
“You’re the worst.”
He kissed her on the back lawn, under the backdrop of the infinite dark sky, the full moon half-covered by pale, rolling clouds. The cacophony of sounds from the party faded into nothing as they held each other in the moonlight, pressing the promises of their affection into each others’ skin, their contented sighs carried away by the wind that skimmed across their faces.
It was Halloween night. The veil between worlds grew thin. The dead were living and the living went, over and over, to their little deaths.