6.42 – Thinking Never Helps

6.42 – Thinking Never Helps

For the first time in a while, Natalie lay alone in her bedroom without someone to accompany her. She'd intended to spend the night with Sofia, but that hadn't come to pass; the white-haired girl had scurried back to her room once it became clear she wouldn't be 'taking advantage' of their bet.

Normally Natalie would have gone and gotten Jordan, but then she would have to explain what happened with Sofia, and more than that, Jordan would have asked all kinds of questions. Questions Natalie didn't know how to answer.

Hence, she was alone in her bed for the first time in a while, and while it was cold and unwelcoming not having her best friend lying there to keep her warm, she did, at least, appreciate the moment of calm. To think about a very puzzling situation.

Sofia. Clearly, Natalie had misjudged a few things there. Not only about Sofia, but also about herself. Because she hadn't been planning to handle the night like she had. With soft touches and compliments, not even telling Sofia to put her collar on. The girl had looked so nervous that Natalie hadn't been able to help herself. And when she'd responded so positively to the gentle treatment, Natalie had wanted to keep laying in more compliments, turning that blush even redder.

But then she'd gone and asked if she meant anything to Natalie. She was still mad about that an hour later. Or maybe mad was the wrong word. Baffled? Outraged? Indignant? Some concoction of all of those things?

Because obviously Sofia meant something to Natalie. She wasn't 'just another conquest.' The idea that Sofia could be 'just another' anything was ridiculous.

In the least charitable interpretation of Natalie's interest, Sofia would have been the conquest—not any other. But even that wasn't a valid description of what Sofia was to her. Partially, maybe; she wouldn't pretend like the idea of making her life-long rival squirm didn't invoke some proud feelings of 'conquest.' But there was a lot more there, bubbling underneath the surface.

What specifically, though?

Natalie rubbed her face, trying to make sense of her thoughts. Instead of examining them too closely—the revelations on the horizon made her nervous—her mind wandered back to Sofia.

She'd been insecure. Insecure. Sofia. Those two words didn't belong together. Sure, Natalie had seen it once before, like that incident on the train where Sofia had gotten overexcited and finished quickly, but that had been a—she didn't know, surface-level insecurity? The kind everyone had. Inconsequential, she guessed, or at least not all that deep.

So yeah. Maybe it hadn't been about Natalie at all. She'd just gone too fast, and Sofia had gotten nervous about her first time being taken by somebody who didn't care for her. And that was totally reasonable. If not how she'd expected Sofia to react, else she wouldn't have pushed for the climactic night at all. And while the two of them were hardly going to end up girlfriends—t-that would be completely ridiculous—Natalie was still a bit miffed by the implication that Sofia had thought them not something, even if just ... special rivals? She didn't know what to call it.

Nonetheless, her reaction had been reasonable. Too fast was too fast, and it didn't matter what anyone else thought about the matter. Hence why Natalie had broken the encounter off; continuing would have tainted the interaction, or at least would have a chance to. She'd have laid with Sofia in bed for a while, at a minimum, clothed and without ulterior intent, but the girl had fled back to her own room—maybe to think about things herself, which Natalie could hardly blame her for, considering her own restless rolling side-to-side, her thoughts going a thousand miles per hour while finding no answers whatsoever.

Still. The tentative conclusions she'd drawn were at least somewhat comforting. No, Sofia hadn't been asking Natalie whether she liked her in that way; she just wanted to mean something to her first partner. And when Sofia had asked for the 'girlfriend experience,' she wasn't asking to be girlfriends—else why phrase it like that? The 'girlfriend experience.' Sofia just wanted the proper experience, a veneer that their relationship was like most others, so that she could feel more comfortable for their first time.

If their first time would even come, now that the bet would be ending. Sure, the collar acted as some sort of incentive, but that was Sofia's item: the bulk of the 'leverage,' the mutual excuses for their behavior, came from the bet.

Natalie sighed. Well, whatever. She didn't want Sofia's first time unless she absolutely wanted to give it. She'd thought they'd already been there though, and was admittedly a bit pent up at not finding release after such a long, intense anticipation. She rolled over and tugged her pillow over her head, the cool sheets of the bed a salve against her unexpectedly hot face.

And now she had two dates to plan instead of one. Jordan, at least, Natalie knew: she had ideas in the works. And honestly, the two of them were lifelong friends, so walking down the street enjoying each other's company would be a date she loved, because any date she would love so long as Jordan was there, and hopefully Jordan felt the same. Not that Natalie had something so lame planned out; she just knew, when it came to Jordan, that simply being together was enough. She was stressed, but also not.

But where in the world would Sofia want to go?

Natalie groaned and flopped back over, staring at the ceiling.

At least it wouldn't be a real date. For whatever reason, the idea of that possibility had her head ten times the mess it was already in. She didn't dare inspect the tangled knot there.

Just a fake one. The 'girlfriend experience.' Yes, she could do that.