Ambivalently Yours

Liz and Kelce

You were absolutely certain something had happened between Liz and Kelce, but they were both denying it.

Somehow (and frankly, you didn't care), Rafe had convinced Kelce to invite Liz over for the night (and she agreed!), and when she had returned to your apartment the next morning, she looked like she'd been through it. She had said they'd just hung out and went to bed not too long after getting there, but she'd provided no more details. The signs were there, though.

They were quieter in the group chat, although you noticed she was always on her phone texting someone. You thought you sensed some awkward tension when you pulled up to the parking garage before classes Monday. Shy smiles and soft hellos were exchanged, and that had been the extent of their morning conversation, when normally they had at least something to chat about mindlessly before you all parted ways for the day. The following days had gone similarly.

"I'm starting to think nothing actually happened," Rafe says as he places an iced coffee on your desk before speech and debate starts Wednesday afternoon.

"No, something definitely happened, they're treading too lightly around one another," you say, taking a quick sip of your drink as he sits down in the seat behind you.

He shakes his head. "No, I know Kelce, he would've said something by now."

"Do you tell each other about all your sexual encounters?" you ask.

"Yeah, pretty much," he says casually.

You gasp softly. "No details, I hope."

"Some details," he says.

"Like what?" you ask. You weren't stupid enough to think he'd said nothing, but you hoped for your sake he wasn't spilling everything. He could've just lied to save you the embarrassment.

"Just like, the usual amount. I dunno," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"If you're going to talk about me, I'd like to know what you're saying."

"I did mention you're a pro at sucking—"

"Rafe," you hiss, glancing around. "Your voice is at full volume right now."

"What? Be proud of that. Most girls are subpar at best," he says.

You give him the meanest look you can muster. "You're awful."

"I'm not," he says confidently.

You roll your eyes and sigh. "What else are you saying about me?"

"Nothing you wouldn't approve of," he assures you. "Only good things."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Yeah, it better be only good things."

"Trust me, I have no complaints," he says. "Well, one actually."

"What's your complaint?" you ask.

"The fact that you keep having me try out pet names on you when I know you already have one you like."

"I never mentioned I liked any," you say.

"Verbally, no, but you turn into a puddle every time I use a certain one," he says, smirking at you.

"I don't know what your referring to," you lie. You thought you'd been doing a good job of keeping yourself in check, but apparently you weren't as good at hiding it as you thought you were. Honestly, the fact that your bones basically turned to liquid whenever he called you 'baby' was embarrassing. Of all the basic, generic names, why did that have to be the one that sent you orbiting into outer space?