retrograde || clara & naomi blitz

There isn't much Clara remembers from the night prior. As her eyes flutter open, it comes in flashes. Sharp, piercing visions of too many shots, sloppy dancing, and a long walk to the closest bed. They're coupled with a significant throbbing at the base of her skull, the remnants of the four different liquors she had mixed now causing the worst headache of the century. Blinking a few times, she rustles beneath the covers, wishing nothing more than to just burrow in deeper, still not really grasping that she isn't between her usual silk sheets. Nor is she in alone in the confines and privacy of her own dorm. 

Wait, where hell am I? 

Her eyes dart open in a mild panic, wide and worried, but she can't help but smile when her gaze lands on her partner in crime from last night. If you could even call it that. In truth, Clara should title her savior. For some reason Naomi had thought it wise to take care of her, as if she deserved such kindness after what a fool she had probably made of herself. 

"I'm so sorry," she blurts out, unable to stand the embarrassment now turning her cheeks pink. "That was the last kind of first impression I wanted to make."  She takes note of the girl's close proximity and familiar butterflies start to flutter in the pit of Clara's stomach. "Not that I was hoping to, you know," she paused and laughed awkwardly, pushing herself upright in the bed, "make a good impression or anything, I just—" She was rambling now. Fuck, she thought, feeling her cheeks turn beat red at this point. "I usually expect dinner before I end up in someone's bed."  

Oh my GOD! What are you DOING?! THAT WAS AN AWFUL JOKE! What the fuck is wrong with you?  Just. Stop. Talking.

Clara sinks a little further under the blanket, reading herself the riot act silently, wishing desperately that she could just disappear. Normally she was so confident, minus the few insecurities of having a sister like hers, but she had always been the type of girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it. So there was no rhyme or reason as to why this girl made her so damn nervous, but she did.  

She just hoped Naomi didn't notice.

Her heart races within her chest, beating faster than she thinks should be humanly possible, which causes her to panic once more. Yeah, that's just what she needs after a night of too much drinking and being taken care of—to drop dead of palpitations due to close proximity of a cute girl.

She wanted to scream! Or cry, maybe. She wasn't sure. This was a lot to deal with. Clara liked her crush. It was small and quiet and hers to keep close to her chest. She felt comfortable watching from a distance, pining and wishing to be noticed, but not really. At least there she couldn't be turned down or rejected. At least there Naomi hadn't found out about the horror show that was the inside of her head.  At least there she had a chance. 

All she knew now was that Naomi was less than a foot from her, sitting atop the same bed they'd both slept in, and all she could think about was how much she wanted to reach over and tuck that stray piece of hair that kept falling in her face behind her ear.  

"Are you really?" Clara blushes and looks away, but as if she were a magnet, she scoots a little closer to the other end of the bed, arm outstretched so her hand was just a few inches from Naomi's. "I'm glad," she offers with a twitch to her index finger, wanting desperately to intertwine their fingers.  "I've wanted to for a while, but..." her voice cracks so she doesn't finish. Clara isn't sure what she should even say. I've been watching you for almost a year? But I've been too scared to do anything? No, don't be a creep. 

"Yes, breakfast sounds great," she says with a smile, pretending she hadn't just almost bared her soul. "I could definitely use some sugar with a side of coffee."

Naomi looks at her like she's a puppy and Clara's heart melts. It turns her insides warm and makes her feel worthy of such a glance. One not of pity or concern or expectation like she's so used to, but that of affection, maybe? Certainly not an intense infatuation, which is what she normally associates with love. 

Well, a crush. Not love. No.

You don't even really know her yet, she reminds herself as her head starts to spin, thoughts spiraling out of control. But her eyes land back onto Naomi's and she feels grounded instantly. Pulled back down to earth by someone who actually wants to take the time to get to know her. Just remember that and breathe. 

"So are you," she confesses, a little disappointed in how long she spent obsessed over the mere idea of this girl rather the real thing. But then her hand is on the side of Clara's face and her breath is stuck in the back of her throat, the spot where she touched her cheek almost burning.  "Um, yeah, I can but..." she stutters, ever inch of her screaming to back away and put as much distance between them as possible, but she's too stunned to move.  Too mesmerized by the deep brown eyes staring back at her to even have a coherent thought. "I don't mind if you..." 

Her voice cracks, heart pounding in her chest.