A Kiss in Costume [girlxgirl]

Something Different (Sam)

This was a mistake. This was the biggest mistake in a series of big mistakes.

Sam snuck a sidelong glance at Maggie Juárez, standing on the narrow, wrought iron fire escape in pearl-white evening gloves and a turquoise-blue dress trimmed with lace. City lights twinkled all around her, illuminating the dark brown curls falling loose from her updo.

Sam had spent this entire stupid party standing by the drinks table, waiting for Maggie to show up, and hoping against hope that Maggie would like the absurd costume Sam had spent so much time on, at Layla's suggestion. When Maggie did finally arrive, a step behind her friend, she'd been so radiant that at first Sam hadn't even noticed Maggie's indignant expression. Sam was always a beat behind other people when it came to reading moods and feelings, even Maggie's, and Maggie wore her beautiful heart on her elaborately-made sleeve.

Sam frowned at the spaces in the wrought iron beneath her silly riding boots. "So... so..." Stop stuttering, idiot, Sam ordered herself. "I'm s-sorry about this. I just—just asked her for help picking out a costume." Specifically, she'd asked Layla for help picking out a costume Maggie might think was cool. She'd tried to downplay it, but Layla had grinned like a maniac the entire time and had insisted this particular costume was a surefire way to win Maggie over. "I didn't mean to st-step on your toes," Sam added cautiously.

"It's not even that, really," Maggie said, looking away, towards the sparkling downtown skyline half-hidden behind bare tree branches. "I'm mostly just... impressed, honestly. It's as good as mine and I spent ages on mine." She smiled.

"I've been wanting to try something d-different." Sam admitted.

"Like actually talking to me?" Maggie suggested dryly.

"I t-t—I talk to you," Sam said, surprised. As much as I talk to anyone.

"You really don't."

It seemed to Sam as though she was constantly stammering out awkward half-sentences about the weather whenever she saw Maggie. Her ability to speak—hampered by her stutter at the best of times—left her almost completely when she was looking at Maggie. She was just so beautiful: all lush and soft and luminous, and she was always doing something worthy of being looked at—always laughing, dancing, talking with her hands, like a pretty little bird fluttering around their dreary gray campus.

The last time they'd seen each other, Sam had been sitting in one of the worn armchairs in the corner of the student lounge, trying to do her econ reading. Maggie was there with Layla and several other students, taking up half the lounge, talking and laughing and bending their heads together over what looked like a dress pattern. Sam could have—should have—sat somewhere else, but she was so curious, not only about Maggie, but about the world of cosplay and nerd culture Maggie spent so much time in. Sam had felt so ignorant and insignificant, it hadn't even occurred to her that Maggie might notice her and think it was strange that Sam hadn't spoken to her.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "My stutter—my stutter gets worse when I'm nervous," she added, on impulse.

Maggie's big dark eyes softened. "I've never noticed a stutter."

People told Sam that, sometimes, but she struggled to believe them. Her stutter ruled her life.

"Why would you be nervous, anyway?" Maggie asked gently. "How could I possibly make you nervous?"

"You're so—" sexy— "creative."

Maggie blushed. "I'm not, really. I just use historical patterns, or I make stuff to Layla's specs. I'm a seamstress more than a designer... I can't come up with clever cosplay ideas the way Layla does."

"What about this dress?" Sam asked, gesturing at the shimmering fabric skimming Maggie's body. "Is it from a pattern?"

"Mostly, yeah," Maggie said. "I embellished it a bit. I changed a few things about the trim, and changed the color to suit my skin tone a little better."

"That—that sounds creative," Sam said, with a little smile.

Maggie laughed. "I guess so." She set her cup on the railing and adjusted her evening gloves, drawing them slightly up over the soft curves of her elbows.

Sam took a shaky sip of her vodka tonic.

"I didn't know you were interested in this kind of stuff," Maggie said. "Costuming and cosplay and stuff."

"I like it, but—but it's hard to know where to st-start," Sam admitted. She felt like that about everything, except for math. She'd always been more comfortable with numbers than people. Her parents had hoped college might finally tempt her out of her shell, but Sam found the labyrinthine departments and packed dormitories overwhelming. Thank God she'd met gentle, patient Alec Chase on the very first day in orientation, or she wouldn't know anyone at all.

"Well," Maggie said, "if you ever want to hang out... I can teach you a little bit about this stuff. If you want."

Hang out? She had to mean as friends, which would be amazing by itself... but there was that slight hesitation in her voice, the graceful lowering of her eyelashes, as if she might be actually interested in more than friendship.

That couldn't be possible. Maggie already had so many friends, and probably an equal amount of dates, if she wanted them. Sam had nothing to offer her.

********

Thank you so much for reading Part 2 of my little story! What did you guys think of Sam's point of view? Were you surprised that she's secretly a big softie? I always thought if Pride & Prejudice were from Darcy's point of view, we'd find out that he's actually a very sweet, slightly mopey man.... Totally want to read that now. Darnit. 

Come back next Friday for Part 3--and thanks again for reading! <3

This part is dedicated to @nina_teretsus, who writes gorgeous evocative poetry and fiction!