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After the blare and colorful flashes of Yolo, the outside feels like being submerged in a cold, silent lake. So calm and nice, Sand can finally breathe in with her whole chest, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket. Fingers brushing against the fabric sting, skin flayed by the rough guitar strings.
She lights the cigarette up, takes a deep drag, and holds it inside for a few seconds until the legs go slightly numb from the long-awaited nicotine.
The back door of the club opens with a creak, breaking the silence.
The first thing Sand sees are lacquered red ballet flats stumbling over each other. Her eyes travel up the pale knees to the silk mini skirt, to the blouse that's all frills and bows. When their eyes meet, Ray's face melts into the happiest smile ever, further reddening Sand's cheeks.
"Sandy!" She staggers forward a little.
Close enough, thinks Sand.
"Can I bum a cigarette, please?" She clasps her hands in a prayer, pouts her lips, and blinks a few times like a needy puppy.
"Yeah, of course," Sand awkwardly, too jitterily and readily, pulls out the pack. "Don't think they're up to your standards though."
Ray shrugs and leans against the wall beside her, shielding the lighter in Sand's hand from the wind.
"Pretty gross," she says eventually, discerning the aftertaste. "But I've had a horrible evening, and mine have run out."
Sand nods. Every line is hard to get out, like a game of chess where you can't stop thinking about how you probably missed something and just become paralyzed instead.
"You played well today." Ray gifts her another smile, and, oh God, Sand thinks this must be a dream. The resident princess of Yolo not only has graced her with her presence but also is talking to her and smiling at her. Something must be wrong.
"Yeah?" She smiles back.
"Yeah," echoes Ray. "I liked it."
"Didn't think you were listening, considering how you couldn't stop staring at that guy."
Sand knows it's a stupid thing to say, but jealousy is a pest, crawling its way out when you least expect it.
And she hates him so much.
It was always just Ray, a tall girl in glasses with her, and their friend, whom Sand caught fucking other guys in the stalls twice already, so he seemingly wasn't a threat. Not that she herself had a chance. Not with Ray.
But recently the other girl — Sand doesn't know her name — started bringing her boyfriend over. Also tall, model face, muscles. And he wouldn't matter at all, she doesn't look at men as a rule of thumb. But Ray, she could not take her eyes off of him, and each time her bitter, outright jealous look would send shivers down Sand's spine despite it not being directed at her.
It really wasn't hard to guess what was going on.
Ray frowns at her words and funnily tilts her head. "What guy?"
"The one with your friend," Sand nods towards the pulsing sounds coming from behind the door. "They are all over each other today. I can't blame you."
"Oh..."
"He's not ugly, you know? I guess I can understand."
Ray squints at her, and Sand can basically hear gears turning in her head, before something clicks, and she bursts into a fit of drunk giggles, flowing across the empty parking lot.
"Oh, Sandy, baby..." She wipes the corners of her eyes from tears. "He's not the one I'm looking at. She is."
Now it's Sand's turn to give her a startled look.
"You're so funny." Ray takes one last drag of her cigarette and puts it out on the wall.
It makes sense really, if you think about it. Before, Ray would be the one hanging on her friend, arms wrapped around her shoulders, happily shouting over the music. Now that place was taken over by another person.
Her name is Mew, Ray tells her. A perfect match to Ray's puppy.
Sand thought Ray would look out of place in her room — too polished, too clean, too expensive for her ugly surroundings — but now, barefoot, running her fingertips over the CDs on the shelves, she seems to fit right in with all the posters on the walls and plum wine bottles on the windowsill.
"I wish you had a cat," she declares out of nowhere, and Sand can't help but snort.
"Why?"
"I don't know. This seems like a place where a cat should live. I could come over and play with her."
"I'll get one then."
Sand wonders if Ray knows she's not joking and would pathetically do absolutely anything if she asked hard enough.
When Ray steps closer, in between Sand's knees, and cups her cheeks, brushing along her lower lip with her thumb, it takes all of Sand's willpower not to think about how she would probably rather do this with Mew, about being a substitute, a body to use.
She leans her knee to the side of her thigh, her fingers graze Sand's cheeks, and her hair falls over her shoulders in the prettiest soft waves. And Sand just snaps. Her hand, completely on its own, slides up the porcelain thigh under her skirt, meeting the lace beneath the silk, at which Ray sighs shakily and leans even closer, burying her face in Sand's hair, lips brushing her temple.
Ray's rosy scent, utterly addicting and electrifying, envelopes everything around, and Sand just can't think anymore, the last straw being Ray climbing on her lap, straddling her thighs, her hands pulling and caressing her hair, her tongue prying her lips open boldly and impatiently, to which Sand responds by squeezing the soft skin, hands on her ass, then lower back, under the frills and bows, wherever she can reach.
And she says everything — how pretty she is, how sweet. Calls her a princess, a doll, her little girl, her angel, and Ray nuzzles further into her neck at each word, melting into the escalatingly lustful touches.
It's terrifying how beautiful she is, naked under the moonlight, her long hair spread across the sheets. Sand can't help but stare down at her helplessly, completely in awe. She runs her finger from her forehead to her lips, where Ray bites down and rolls her tongue over her knuckles, exhaling a soft plea in the end.
No matter how much she wants to just freeze the moment and marvel in it forever, Sand is her slave through and through. So she kisses down her neck, sucks the skin over her collarbone, and goes lower to tug on her pink nipples with her teeth.
"Beautiful," she mouths back at the tattoo on her hip.
"Sandy, please," Ray whimpers quietly, and her hand impatiently slips into Sand's hair. "I need you so bad."
Sand just kisses the inside of her thigh and complies with the request.
There's nothing more beautiful in this world than the way Ray sobs when Sand curls her fingers inside of her. She's flushed, her lipstick smudged, and her mascara ruined by the sweet tears, Sand's doing, but somehow all of it just makes her look prettier and more alive. If before Sand could only see a perfect doll in front of her, now, when she arches her back, right before coming, she can finally see a person — impossibly beautiful, but still a human of flesh and blood.
A human in love with someone else.
Ray pulls her closer after, kisses her gently, like a kid, and for a moment Sand allows herself to forget about how pitiful she really is and kisses her back, wrapping her arms around Ray's waist and pretending this is just a start. She'll invite her on a proper date after, she'll kiss her sober, kiss her with no intention of having sex, watch her play with their kitten, and she'll cook for her and introduce her to her mom.
"Sand? Are you listening?" Ray pulls back and cups her cheeks, brushing their noses in a cat-like gesture.
"Sorry?"
"I just said thank you. I really had a shit day, you know?"
Sand brushes the hair away from her face. "I'm glad I could make it better then."
Ray covers her hand with her own and presses it into her cheek.
"So you do know my name?"
She blinks in a silent question.
"I thought you didn't because you've always called me Sandy."
"Of course I do. I just think it's cute."