Chapter Text
Oona has had a lot of jobs.
Constantly moving around with Maple and her mom created a fast-paced, disjointed sort of lifestyle. She’d grown used to the sudden crash of a relationship that escalated into packing away their livelihood and skipping town or leaving the country.
It made her feel suspended in the world, never truly touching down, never truly having a place to call her own.
Oona tried not to let it show. When she had to leave the people she’d met, her newfound friends—had to shake their hands or hug them goodbye—she tried to ignore the urge to hold them there and never let go.
Some people, if placed in her situation, would’ve adopted an avoidant approach: Don’t make friends. Don’t let people get close. If it’s never going to last, what's the point, right?
Oona threw herself into the opposite.
Whenever they settled somewhere—at least for the moment—she tried to ground herself by blending with the existing populace. To talk to anyone and everyone, make herself known in ripple effects, through neighborhood gossip and memorable exchanges, so she could plant a persona to escape into for the time and pretend she could have something that lasts.
She doesn’t remember much about her early years in Amsterdam—and when they were in Paris she was still too young to do much else beyond peer through the bars of her apartment balcony and make small talk with the florist across the street, a kind older woman who ended up being the first person she ever missed—but by the time they were in London, Oona was old enough to figure out that the easiest way to do this was to insert yourself into the lives of everyone else and become part of the system, of daily routine, as if you were there the whole time, as if you had purpose.
It didn’t matter if most of them never knew her in return. It didn’t matter if they never really got close. They were aware of her, so it almost felt like they did. But it hurt every time she disappeared anyways. Their worlds kept spinning without her.
School would’ve been the easiest option, but Oona preferred doodling little stars into the cuffs of her uniform and admiring the silky waves of her music teacher’s hair rather than putting effort into anything relating to academics.
So every day after grueling maths lessons and assigned reading, instead of going home, Oona got a job. She did shop work and cleaned cars, walked her neighbors’ dogs and hung around the market to offer her earnest, youthful arms to anyone who needed to alleviate bags of produce from their own.
The people remembered who she was while she was still there.
Muskoka wasn’t expected to be much different—the minute she touched down and charmed the marina man, Joe was offering to teach her how to drive a boat. The fact she ended up cleaning the vessels instead says all Oona is willing to divulge about the experience, but nonetheless, she had her gateway into the community almost immediately, spending her days washing the boats and chatting up every person that stepped in or stepped off the island.
But it was different, after.
After she became acquainted with Joe’s reserved yet thoughtful son, Ellis, who showed her some of the little, beautiful things that made Sterling Point special.
After he introduced her to Sully, big-hearted and vibrant in ways that Oona found herself eternally grateful for. Who brought her to all the best parties with all the best—and sometimes the worst—people.
After she set eyes on a small, stone-faced girl with silky blonde hair and dark circles under her eyes from across the cliff rocks, obviously carrying something on her shoulders long enough it’d left a tangible imprint on her soul—something that intrigued Oona immensely, made her want to pick the girl apart piece by piece.
It was different after said girl jumped off the edge, plunging into shimmering water instead of humoring Oona in conversation like everyone else did when she first tried to introduce herself, like she thought so little of their minute interaction it wasn’t worth continuing.
She had to listen to Sully laugh in her face and sing-song “I told you so” for the rest of that day after she failed to find her again, having warned Oona of Ramona’s aloof nature and how it took months for her to warm up even to him.
Oona just took it as a challenge, determined to squeeze her way into Ramona’s life like she had done so easily with everyone else’s in the short amount of time that she’d been there.
She didn’t stop until the girl was worn down enough by her very persistent persuasion to finally hang out with her.
It took less than 2 weeks. The rest was history.
So yeah, what was different was the after.
After Ramona.
After Ellis and Sully and Ramona, but… mostly Ramona.
It was different because they felt more like home than anywhere Oona had ever resided.
Working the cash register with Sully and listening to his mindless quips and surprisingly sane advice. Catering to all the rich tourists on their summer holidays, driving him crazy as she used her “front-of-house face” and endless flirting techniques to garner extra tips and keep herself entertained.
Scrubbing cup holders and stealing leftover booze from forgotten coolers with Ellis. Getting him to convince his dad that Oona wasn’t that bad at driving a boat and that she could do better if he just gave her another fifth chance.
Seeing Ramona on the docks, sweaty and spent after working, but looking more alive every day since Oona had met her. Playing with her fingers while they talked and Ramona ate whatever Oona brought out for her to try from the kitchen. Leaving her shifts early to float around in the lake or cuddle in the confines of Oona’s boat house—always empty, always just the two of them.
It was different because as time went on it felt like it was going to last. When she cried for the first time in Ramona’s arms after her mother left unexpectedly for a weekend in Greece, it felt like she was sharing a part of herself that she wouldn’t be able to just leave behind. It felt like these people wouldn’t be able to just forget her like the rest of them did, and she wouldn’t be able to forget them. Because Ramona cried in her arms too, about a lot of things.
So yeah, Oona’s had a lot of jobs for a lot of reasons and a lot has come out of them to make her feel less alone.
Including the one she is supposed to be working right now.
The little market café was bathed in a white summer glow, rays of sunshine reaching through the windows and washing the cool wood tones in a little more warmth.
A mix of tourists and locals filled the space, moving between tables topped with bottles of wine and jars of jams, chocolates and cheese. Between the fridges filled with cartons of fruit and produce, back to the quaint booths and outdoor seating.
Oona leaned against the counter, shirt untucked under her apron and mane of golden curls tied up on the top of her head in the heat. She was fanning herself, observing the controlled commotion of customers, glancing at the door every time the bell above it jingled.
She was not waiting for someone.
She heard a click of the tongue behind her.
“Babe, oh my god, relax a little.” A teasing voice called out, “I can see the tension radiating off you from here!”
Oona turned to face Sully, all dark curly hair and knowing eyes. He stood by the door that led to the kitchen, a tray in each hand full of carefully crafted culinary masterpieces, as he would call them, apron cinched tight and professional around his waist unlike Oona’s lopsided uniform. He was looking over at her with poorly concealed amusement showing through his dimples.
Oona just whined softly, sinking into her arms on the hard surface, not even pretending to hide the reason for her stress, “Ok, but she’s never this late.”
Her accent caught around the words, drawing out the syllables and emphasizing her dramatically distressed tone as the ding of the bell sounded again.
She perked up like a dog would at the sound of a can opening. Groaned as yet another too-tall blonde with blue eyes instead of hazel got her hopes up as they entered.
Sully rolled his own in exasperation, “You’re acting like we’re going to find her dead in a ditch later.”
“Listen,” Oona started, pointing a finger at her friend, “I know we don’t have like an official thing where she comes in every day and it’s wrong for me to assume she would because she has other things she could be doing but Sully… Sully, she comes in every day. I have a right to be worried.”
“First of all, she only comes in every day you’re here and I know this because I’m always exhausted after having to do two people’s jobs for the price of one.”
Oona opened her mouth to protest but Sully let out a dismissive huff of air, expecting it, continuing before she had any chance to interject, “As is the case right now, honey. There’s this fabulous thing called multitasking where you can be worried and serve tables at the same time—mindblowing, I know.”
He walked away momentarily, wiggling his hips to the muffled beat of the radio in the back, making a show of slipping out behind the counter to gracefully peruse through the scattered throng of customers and place the trays on their correct tables before rejoining her back on the counter, this time right across from her, leaning his forehead onto hers.
The blonde sucked air through her lopsided grimace and squeezed her eyes together as if in pain, “Yeah, you know, I would, but I’m just kind of distracted right now because I’m concerned about her. Our friend by the way. You could show a little more consideration for the well-being of our friend. Who could be anywhere.” She gasped, hand on her chest, eyes flying open and going wide, “What if she’s been kidnapped? Or worse? What if Gordon’s making her go fishing with him again? I really think I should go check on her–”
“Second of all,” Sully whined in the same dramatic manner to shut her up, grabbing her hands and shaking them, “She could be doing literally anything else. She has a life. And thoughts and feelings. Outside of us. Maybe she just didn’t feel like coming across the lake today.”
And Oona pouted, ready to fire back yet another retort but in that moment her eyes moved over to the door again and her body snapped to attention without a second thought. She watched the two figures that entered: one all too familiar and the other not in the slightest.
Ramona had her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, strands sticking out and framing her delicate face. Her grey muscle tee and black basketball shorts were both at least one size too big but the fashion suited her, hanging off her small frame in an effortless way. She was looking up at the girl beside her, gorgeous eyebrows pinched in her typical perpetually scowling expression but obviously still focused on whatever was being said.
The stranger, on the other hand, was her opposite: tall, dark-haired, dark-skinned, and wearing a tight, pearlescent blue, pink, and purple t-shirt cropped above her navel. A frilly white skirt with too many beads and not enough inches past her thighs. Her nails, which were sunk into the pale arm of Oona’s best friend, were painted a similar shimmery combo. They were long. Clawing.
She looked nothing like the people Ramona usually hung out with, but Oona watched, mouth slightly parted, as the usually standoffish girl allowed the stranger to steer her to a booth, hand never leaving her skin, and settle practically on top of her as they squished into one side together rather than sitting across from each other like normal people.
Ramona didn’t even look up at Oona at the counter, entirely engrossed in wannabe Mermaid Barbie.
The taller blonde’s heart, which had jump-started instinctively at the sight of Ramona, clenched in question as she took in more of the scene.
Because what the hell?
Sully whistled.
“Well, now that’s just awkward.”
Oona barely heard him.
“Take orders, you said?” she rushed out without looking away, “Yeah. Yeah, I got you babe, don’t even worry.”
She grabbed a set of menus haphazardly and made her way over to the pair’s table, almost stumbling in her haste, weaving around individuals that were in the way of her most immediate path.
She ignored Sully’s obvious, judging gaze at her back, approaching the booth just in time to watch the girl’s hand migrate down to clasp at Ramona’s own as they rested together on the table.
She swallowed down the rapidly rising lump in her throat.
What. The. Hell?
“Hey! Welcome to Little Gem,” she said, placing the laminated paper down with more force than she intended and flashing a bright, curious smile at the two, “What can I do for you, ladies?”
She tried to catch Ramona’s eye, “Mona? Mona and friend? You didn’t mention a friend, who might you be beautiful?”
The two girls startled slightly, Ramona looking up at her now, confusion marring her face at the older girl’s odd tone, but also something flashing underneath that looked surprisingly like frustration. Quick and instant. As if Oona had already said something particularly distasteful.
She never looked at her like that.
It made her falter, breath catching.
Her friend on the other hand smiled widely.
Of course her teeth were perfect too.
“Hi! I’m Kiera, nice to meet you… Oona.” She glanced down at the taller blonde’s nametag as she said it. “Mona didn’t tell me her friend worked here.”
And that might have been the weirdest part of the whole situation yet: the casual, mindless way she used a nickname that had been exclusively used by those closest to Ramona for as long as Oona could remember. The way Ramona grimaced but didn’t say anything in response.
Oona’s mind jumped to a long list of possibilities.
Of how long this girl had been a part of Ramona’s life. Of how long she’d kept her out of Oona and Sully and Ellis’s sight—because if one of them had seen her they surely would have said something.
Mostly she thought of why and what those why’s could mean.
“Really?” Her voice came out weaker than intended but still forcibly sweet. She leaned into the girl’s space, fixing her with an intense look. “Funny, I haven’t heard anything about you either.”
She was trying to look interested, honestly, trying to make her sharp smile seem as genuine as she could when in reality all she wanted to do was pull Ramona aside and talk to her about… god knows what. This whole conversation felt wrong.
The girl giggled though, Oona’s eyes being drawn to the way she squeezed Ramona’s hand as if sharing an unsaid joke, “Seems to be a theme. She’s got this whole mysterious thing going on, I can’t figure her out.”
Ramona coughed, pulling her hand away, and straightening her shoulders in a way that told Oona she wasn’t entirely comfortable. It was a lifeline thrown out to her as she drowned in a sea of her own bewilderment.
She tried not to think about how she had seemed at ease before Oona showed up.
“So, what’s good here babe?”
Both blondes opened their mouths at the same time to answer. Both of them gave each other incredulous looks once registering that the other was responding.
Oona cleared her throat, stepping in, “Well, we have a large assortment of paninis and grilled cheese, but also garden salads and soup bowls if you’re interested in something smaller. I always recommend a smoothie and butter tart at this time though, it’s a little late for lunch.”
Kiera nodded, looking to Ramona for guidance, blinking her eyelashes up at her.
Ramona spoke for the first time, “Yeah, we skipped it earlier. We’ll do the daily soup and the butter tarts.”
We.
Oona took back the menus, hoping that Ramona would look at her and give her something else to clear the air about why she was four hours later than usual, skipping lunch, walking into the café with a random girl who treated her like they were best friends and pretending Oona didn’t exist.
“I’ll get right on that for you guys.”
“You’re staring.”
Sully came to rest on the counter next to her, leaning his cheek into her rigid shoulder.
“I am not staring.” Oona scoffed. She wiped at a drip stain on the coffee machine aggressively.
She was totally staring.
Lasers from the eyes staring.
Could set the hair atop Kiera’s head aflame if she stared any harder staring.
Sully sighed in that tone that sucked all the humor out of a conversation, soft and sympathetic, “Oona…”
The blonde ripped her gaze away.
“She’s allowed to have other friends. That doesn’t change anything between you two.”
Oona flinched. Tangled her fingers together.
“T-that’s not what this is about.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
Yes.
Ramona had other friends, obviously. The girl may be reserved but she wasn’t antisocial, it just took a while for her to warm up to new people and things. Most people stopped trying before they even got too far. No, that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was they were usually Oona’s friends too. Theirs, together.
The problem was, they had been more or less inseparable since Ramona had let her in. Ramona told her everything: every problem she had, every place she went, every person that mattered.
They didn’t keep secrets, really.
And she had never mentioned Kiera.
It made her feel a little lost. Not quite sure where she fit now in this unfamiliar situation. Incapable of figuring out what the swirl of emotions in her stomach was as she watched Kiera’s animated hand gestures and Ramona’s loosening posture as they talked and talked and talked…
The dark-haired Amazonian-looking woman got up then, heading towards the restrooms.
Oona found herself moving forward before she’d even registered her feet were on the ground, however, instead of heading towards Ramona, left alone at the table, she trailed the taller girl into the toilet. Felt more than one pair of eyes on her back as the door swung closed.
She entered the clean, echoey space, removed from the buzzing chatter of the café atmosphere, and leaned against the sink as she waited for Kiera to come out, willing her brain and her thoughts that were now just a little too loud to shut up.
Kiera paused when she exited the stall and saw the tall blonde there, legs crossed, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. A fleeting look of confusion bled across her features before disappearing. She sighed in defeat, and it almost seemed like she wasn’t surprised at all that Oona had followed her.
“Hey… what’s up?”
Oona crossed her arms over her chest, rushing water filling the empty space as Kiera started washing her hands.
“Hey.” she said, faux casual. “Nothing. Nothing. Just… never seen you around before, how do you know Ramona?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself, “Cause like she’s never mentioned you and you seem pretty close. I’m just—”
The faucet turned off abruptly. Kiera interrupted her with a wave of her hand, “Listen, I don’t want to get into this right now.”
A pause.
“Sorry?” Oona said, eyebrows raising to her hairline. She moved her hands to the marble counter, gripping it tightly. Ready to spring off.
Kiera, seeming to notice her change in body language, raised her hands up in mock surrender, “I didn’t know she was dating someone.”
The retort that had been building died on Oona’s lips.
She stared.
“What?”
“The two of you,” Kiera said, gesturing vaguely towards her and then the door, rolling her eyes, “I didn't realize you were like together.”
“We’re not.” Oona corrected, too fast, heart racing.
Now, Oona wasn’t stupid. She knew her reputation. She knew that most if not every person who frequented the island was aware of her preferences. She knew she didn’t try to hide it anyway. There were countless interactions with girls that had been misinterpreted—and in most cases she took it in stride, playing it off as if it was her intention the whole time—but she’d kept that part of herself separate from her relationship with Ramona. Because Ramona wasn’t one of those girls and never would be. She was her best friend.
There are brief moments where she remembers thinking about it. Thinking about how they look sometimes… together, with Oona’s arm around Ramona’s shoulders, her fingers in her hair, and her lips on her cheek or her forehead or her temple. She didn’t think about it very long though.
And she’d never heard it spoken aloud before.
“We aren’t together.” she tried to say again—failed to do anything beyond parting her lips.
The words tasted wrong in her mouth, the flavor bitter with error even if there was no doubt to their truth.
Suddenly she was thinking about it again. Visualizing a world in which the opposite was a fact now that it had been uttered into existence. Now that someone else had pointed it out.
She felt heat rush to her face.
She would unpack that later.
Kiera blinked. She was staring at her like she was waiting for her to take it back or say she was joking.
“Oh. Okay.” Skeptical. Almost amused.
Or she could unpack it now.
“What?” she snapped, keeping her voice deceptively calm but defensive all the same. Her pulse was roaring in her ears.
Kiera just laughed softly, something shifting in her eyes, “Nothing.”
“No, what is it?”
The girl stepped forward to dry her hands, grabbing a cloth from the basket behind Oona. Too close. Too knowing. “You’re making that face again.”
And Oona felt her carefully crafted confidence crumble, bit by bit, “What face? I am not making a face.”
“You are. You’ve been making it for the last hour.” And Oona didn’t know what expression she made at that comment, but the girl only chuckled louder, “Babe, you’ve been glaring at me since I sat down.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
“I was just looking at you. Pure curiosity.”
“Yeah right, you looked about ready to drag me out yourself.” She leaned against the counter by Oona’s side, tilting her head, “I just figured you were her girlfriend.”
Oona bit her lip, glancing at the door. Imagining Ramona sitting out there, entirely oblivious to the topic of their conversation. Wondering what she would say. Knowing and yet still hoping.
“Well, I’m not. She’s my best friend.”
Kiera nodded slowly, “Got it…”
She still didn’t sound like she believed her but she also didn’t seem like she was going to pry directly. Instead she let a sly smile pull on the corners of her mouth. Zipped her eyes away to stare at the ceiling and tap her nails on the counter inconspicuously, “So, she isn’t seeing anyone?”
Oona clenched her jaw. She didn’t like where this was going.
“No.” she said deliberately.
“No?”
“No.”
Kiera hummed, “Good.”
Oona’s stomach sank, “Good?”
Kiera shrugged, “Yeah. That means I can continue talking to her without feeling like a homewrecker.”
“You're flirting with her.” Statement, not question.
Kiera gave her a look, “Um, obviously. You didn’t notice?”
“No, I noticed.” God did she notice. She just needed to say it aloud.
“Right.” Kiera knocked their shoulders together as if they were friends now, “Come on, you can’t blame me, can you? As her best friend and all. Tell me, from a totally platonic standpoint: you think she’s cute, right?”
Oona looked toward the door. Imagined all the words in which she would describe Ramona and decided cute just didn’t quite cut it.
“She’s…” She stopped. Kiera waited. “She’s Ramona. She’s the best, yeah.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“It is if you know her.”
Kiera laughed, “Okay. Mysterious.” She pushed away from the counter. “Anyway, now that I know you’re not together, I don’t see what the problem is.”
Oona took in how confidence looked on her, thought about how if this were under different circumstances she wouldn’t have a problem with the cheeky grin on her flawless face. Would’ve fired back something equally as teasing, had a clear goal for how this conversation was to end. But all she was thinking about right now was Ramona.
“It isn’t.” She cleared her throat, “It isn’t a problem.”
“Great.” Kiera said, canines showing.
“Great.” Oona repeated, molars grinding.
Kiera started for the door, before glancing back, hand on the knob, “For the record, I promise I wasn’t trying to steal her or anything, really. I literally met her today. My cousin’s renting a place across the lake. We were out on the water this afternoon, stopped at the marina, I ran into her there.”
Oona blinked.
“I just thought she was cute, you know? Started a conversation about ideal fishing spots—which as you can guess was total bullshit because I’ve never touched a pole in my life—but we just kept talking.”
Oona felt something in her chest loosen, but not completely.
“And then she invited you here?” Oona asked tentatively.
“Not exactly. I asked if she could show me around, where the best places to go out were. She said she was actually heading here before I stopped her, so…”
She gestured toward the café.
“I tagged along.”
Oona stared at the floor. She’d spent the better part of an hour watching Kiera and Ramona like they had a longstanding, secret history when the girl had barely known the blonde for four hours.
She felt like an idiot.
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Yeah. So… we’re good now?” Kiera raised her hand to her shoulder to give it a squeeze, “I’ll leave you to your extremely platonic protective best friend staring?”
Oona groaned. “Please don’t call it that.”
Kiera laughed, “Okay. Okay. But you’re not going to be weird while I’m still talking to her, are you?”
Oona’s stomach dropped again.
“You just said—”
There was a full blown grin on Kiera’s face now, conspiracy etched in every line, “I said I wasn’t trying to steal her. I didn’t say I wasn’t still interested.” And she left Oona with a wink before disappearing back into the café.
The blonde remained in the bathroom for another few minutes, breathing deeply.
Four hours. They’d known each other for four hours.
It shouldn’t have bothered her, but it still did. This unknown variable that was now in her life—their life, their relationship. The way Kiera spoke like it was just the beginning. The way she could already see it subtly threatening their dynamic, changing how they talked to each other, spent time with each other, showed affection.
Because people hadn’t ever really tried to hit on Ramona. Sure, they called her pretty when they knew she wasn’t listening, because how could you not, but the courage to approach her so boldly was one that had been exclusive to Oona, even if it wasn’t like that.
No one had asked her on a date. No one had kissed her. No one had embraced her beauty as easily as Oona did, with her sharp edges and icy exterior. They didn’t wait around long enough to see her melt or bloom.
And now it seemed like someone would. Oona wasn’t sure how to adapt to that change.
And she knew why it bothered her now, her feelings suddenly so clear she’s not sure how she didn’t see them before.
She was in love with her best friend.
She couldn’t stand the thought of not being the most important person in her life.
Fuck.
She rushed out the door, suddenly panicked, but when she returned to the table, Ramona was there alone, sipping soup from her spoon and glaring at the table in the way Oona knew she did unconsciously rather than because she was upset.
Cute. she thought, unconsciously.
Maybe Kiera was right about one thing.
Ramona looked up as Oona slid into the empty booth space beside her, the taller blonde taking pleasure in the fact she could see the light return to her eyes.
“Hey,” she said softly. She placed her arm around her shoulders, tightening her hold into a real hug once Ramona responded by leaning back into her. She kissed the top of her head. Breathed her in. “Where’s Kiera?”
Ramona sighed, relaxing into the feeling of her entire body being enveloped, “She left. Said she was heading back to her cousin’s place.”
Oona looked toward the window, warmth rising in her chest—a petty feeling of victory washing over her when there was never a competition in the first place. “Oh, already?”
Ramona shrugged. “She said she’d had fun, but this obviously wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever that means.”
Oona tried and failed to hide her smile behind the spoonful of soup she brought towards her mouth.
Ramona frowned, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing.” Ramona turned in her hold, pushing lightly at her chest. “You’re doing that thing.”
Oona laughed again, “What thing?”
“Where you say nothing when there is obviously something.”
Oona picked up one of the leftover tarts, biting into it to distract her mouth further before she said something more than she wanted to, “I was just surprised.”
“Why?”
“Because you two seemed…” She paused, looked at the ceiling, wiggled the pastry in a more-or-less gesture, “Friendly. I don’t know.”
Ramona snorted, frowning, “We met like four hours ago. She was really into fishing and asked all these details, I was just being nice.”
Oona smiled, “You were being nice?”
Ramona whacked her. “I can be nice.”
“Sure baby, sure.”
Oona let her eyes drift around the shop. She found Sully watching them again with begrudging affection, making kissy faces across the counter when Oona caught his eyes. She flipped him off.
“That’s all it was then?” she tried lightly. Needing the last minute reassurance.
Instead of answering Ramona took Oona’s other hand, the one with the spoon still in her grip, out of the bowl and brought the utensil up to her own lips. Her fingers slid over her wrist, sending tingles to her core.
“You’re being weird.”
Oona let out a shaky sputter, “I’m being weird?”
“Mhm.”
“No I’m not.”
I’m just realizing how much I need you in my life.
“Whatever you say.”