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“What the hell are we doing here again?” Carmilla yanked her wrist away from Elsie’s grip.
They were in the lobby of the smaller of Silas University’s auditoriums. Its real name was unclear; everyone referred to it as “Not the Lustig”. On their way inside, Carmilla read the sandwich board by the doors. Silas University Poetry Slam: A Spoken Word Extravaganza. She watched the people milling about, in their slouchy cardigans and scuffed boots and thick-rimmed glasses. Yup, she was in the right place.
“You agreed to go,” Elsie told her.
“Well, now I regret it immediately,” Carmilla said. “This place reeks of unwashed denim and pretension.”
Elsie snorted. “Don’t act like you’re above going to a poetry slam, Carmilla.” She eyed Carmilla’s outfit. “Besides, you look the part.”
Carmilla looked down at her all-black outfit of a leather jacket, t-shirt, ripped jeans and boots, before looking back at Elsie and crossing her arms defensively. “I look nothing like these people.”
“Oh, you mean you’re not broody and long-suffering?” Elsie didn’t falter under Carmilla’s glare. “Why don’t you just take it easy and have fun?” She fished in her bag for her wallet. “And since you paid for dinner, I’m gonna go get us a drink. Want anything in particular?”
“Bourbon.”
“Carmilla.” On-campus event bars only served beer, cider and wine.
“Fine.” Carmilla sighed. “Pinot noir.”
Elsie nodded and walked towards the bar. Carmilla watched her, in her bubbly blonde glory, wondering how on earth she had the capacity to be so patient. Elsie was the closest thing Carmilla had to a friend—if friends slept with each other. Carmilla had to concede that she was a pleasant person and that occasionally, she was even fun to be around.
So what used to be a relationship based on texts in the middle of the night turned into evenings out that ended, more often than not, in falling into bed with each other. They weren’t dates. Just awfully ceremonious booty calls. Neither of them felt the need to ask for more. Actual relationships consumed too much time; sometimes all you need is a buddy for the nights out, then a warm body to keep you company afterwards. Why not make them the same person?
It hadn’t been like that lately, though. For the last couple of months, they would invite each other to nights out, but were never together by the end of it. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Carmilla had suspected that Elsie was starting to want more than casual sex, but that she didn’t want this from Carmilla.
It didn’t bother Carmilla; if she was going to date anyone, it wouldn’t be Elsie. She was fun, but they had nothing in common. Carmilla knew that she was a cynical asshole, but she knew that like the more romantic sorts, she had a vision of what her perfect relationship would be like. She was just more realistic about her chances of finding it--currently, it was leaning towards unlikely.
Carmilla spotted a long table along the back of the lobby with pizza boxes on it. Free food was always a winner at any university event, and even she wasn’t immune to the attraction. She approached the table and was disappointed to find one last slice of pizza. She should’ve expected it, though. She was about to reach for the slice, when…
“Oh god, I’m starving. Wanna split that?”
Carmilla turned around to face the girl who asked her that ridiculous question. Sharing a slice of pizza? At a university event? Was this girl born yesterday? Carmilla realised she must have asked that last question out loud—accompanied by a sneer—because the girl’s face slightly twitched in response.
“You didn’t need to be rude about it,” she said. She swung her backpack—she was so tiny that it looked too big for her—around to her front, opened it and stuck her hand inside. “Fine, I’m gonna settle for some bar sna–”
“Carmilla,” Elsie called out as she approached, “please don’t tell me that you’re hungry again.”
“You don’t need to be hungry to have pizza,” Carmilla said.
“I would normally agree with that,” the girl piped up, “but I am really hungry, and if you’ve already eaten…”
“I haven’t,” Carmilla lied.
“You had a double bacon cheeseburger and fries,” Elsie interjected. She turned to the girl. “Take the pizza, I’ll handle her.”
“As if,” Carmilla scoffed. But she couldn’t bring herself to do anything as the girl snatched up the final pizza slice, and with a smirk, bit smugly into it, maintaining eye contact with Carmilla as she did so. “Ugh, whatever,” Carmilla muttered. “Let’s go, Elsie.” She took her plastic cup of wine the other girl’s hand and marched to the door, where they have started letting people in.
“Thanks for the pizza!” the girl called after them.
They shuffled into the middle of a row near the front. Brow furrowed, Carmilla lowered her backpack to the ground before pushing down on the folding cinema chair. She sat down and placed her wine on the cup holder to her right.
Elsie made herself comfortable in the seat beside her. “Isn’t this great? We’ve got such a good view.”
“It’s also impossible for me to escape,” Carmilla said. “I’m certain most of the people we’ll watch tonight would be considered an affront to poetry. And it’s a good view.” She nodded at the two people seated directly in front of them, their heads—both having offensively ginger hair—huddled close in conversation. “If we’re meant to spend the evening looking at a pumpkin patch.”
At this remark, the two redheads stopped talking to turn to Carmilla. The one with the shorter hair appeared vaguely annoyed, while the one with the wild curls stared at her for a moment, before finally speaking: “Carmilla, hi!”
“Oh. Perry. Hey.”
Perry was in her advanced German philosophy course, and was probably the only person in that class who matched Carmilla’s proficiency in the subject. Perry was uptight, but also so hardworking and generous that it was both too easy and too hard to snark about her.
Carmilla had done a good job of avoiding it, but she was ashamed that her one slip-up involved Perry’s hair, of all things. Amateur move.
“Carmilla,” Perry said again. “It’s a surprise to see you here.”
“Why’s that?” Elsie asked. “Do you think she always spends her Friday nights in the dusty corners of the library, cobwebs growing under her armpits?” When Perry gave her a curious look, she continued: “I’m Elsie. I’m responsible for arranging this,” she gestured to Carmilla’s presence, “surprise.”
“Your girlfriend, Carmilla?” Perry asked.
Both Carmilla and Elise laughed at the thought. “No way,” Carmilla said. “I wouldn’t date anyone whose idea of a good time is a university poetry slam.”
“I thought you just didn’t date,” Elsie said.
Carmilla ignored her and spoke to Perry instead. “It’s nice to see you here,” she said. She knew Perry ran in these circles. “Are you supporting anyone tonight?”
Perry and her friend glanced at each other. “We’re actually here for our friend Laura. Even if she’s not competing tonight,” she said.
“But she’s the slammaster,” Perry’s friend said. “You know, the emcee?”
“Right,” Carmilla said.
“It’s actually been a while since Laura competed,” Perry said. She turned to her friend. “Was it last year or the year before that?”
“Year before that. She was the sacrificial poet last year.”
“Yes, now I remember,” Perry said. “Do you know Laura Hollis, Carmilla? She’s an excellent poet. She’s already too good for the university circuit. She competed for the university poetry collective at the provincials last year, but now she’s only doing professional competitions.”
Perry’s friend was nodding along. “She’s still heavily involved with the scene here at Silas, though, which is wonderful for the newbies,” they said.
Carmilla didn’t follow the slam poetry scene at Silas. She didn’t even know that there was a slam poetry scene. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of her,” she admitted.
“Well, you’ll see her soon,” Perry said. “Too bad she’s just emceeing tonight. She really is brilliant.” The sounds of movement on the stage caught her attention. “Oh! Here she comes!” She repositioned herself in her seat so that she was facing the stage.
Carmilla looked at the stage, where a short girl with golden brown hair was adjusting the height of the microphone stand. Carmilla watched as a satisfied smile appeared on the girl’s face after tapping the mic with her fingernail. “Hang on.” She straightened up in her seat. “Isn’t that– ?”
“Shhh,” Perry’s friend said, not even bothering to fully turn around.
The girl bounced on her feet a couple of times and cleared her throat as she surveyed the audience. “Good evening everyone!” she began. “Welcome, and thank you for coming to Silas University’s annual poetry slam! My name’s Laura, and I’m your slammaster for tonight.” There was good-natured howling from the front row. “Yeah, tonight’s your lucky night!” Laura said, laughing.
“Anyway,” she was addressing the crowd again, “I just want to apologise for our slightly late start. I meant to be a little bit more punctual, but the boring coursework I was doing before this took longer than expected… and then I had to go grab some food, because there’s nothing worse than sitting through a poetry slam when your stomach is grumbling, right? I hoped to get some pizza when I got here, but it was all gone! Jesus Christ, people.” She entertained some laughs from the crowd.
“Next year I’m gonna tell the poetry society to go easy on advertising the free food. I mean, there’s going to be a dip in audience numbers, but that’s what all you hipsters want anyway, right?” More laughs. “Don’t worry though, no hungry slammaster for you tonight. I’ve managed to put some food in my belly… a small chocolate bar, those lunchbox-sized bag of cheese puffs, and the last slice of pizza! Yeah, I know right? I almost got into fisticuffs with someone else over it, and yup, I would’ve been willing to throw that first punch.”
Everyone found it funny. Except for Carmilla. Because Laura was shooting pointed looks at her the entire time. Unbelievable.
Carmilla turned to Elsie, hoping that at least she would be commiserating. But Elsie’s grin was poorly concealed behind her hand. “Not cool,” Carmilla mouthed. “I hate this.”
“I don’t,” Elsie mouthed back.
After the audience became familiar with Laura, she launched straight into explaining the rules and introducing the judges. Carmilla blanched when she thought about the format Laura had just laid out. Timed performances? Scoring systems? Elimination rounds? This evening was more talent quest than poetry.
“I now want to call on tonight’s sacrificial poet,” Laura was saying. “For those of you who are new here, the sacrificial poet is the one who sets the standard that our judges will score the competitors tonight.” She clapped her hands together once. “I’m so happy to introduce tonight’s poet. She’s not just brilliant at slam, but she’s an awesome writer, academic and,” Laura waggled her eyebrows, “athlete—yeah, I know, right? Danny Lawrence, can you come up here and show them how it’s done?”
Carmilla automatically joined in the applause as a tall redheaded girl—no, seriously, she looked like she was from another species—got up on the stage.
“Hey, she’s one of the VPs at Summer Society,” Elsie said.
Danny and Laura hugged, and Carmilla did not miss the lingering touches and seemingly insignificant looks exchanged between them. She couldn’t help but be intrigued. Surely even the poetry nerds couldn’t resist the temptation for bad hookup decisions.
Laura stepped off the stage as Danny adjusted the microphone stand. A disturbing feeling hit Carmilla. She suddenly missed Laura being up there. Danny was easy on the eyes, and even Carmilla could admit that she was a great performer. But there was something about Laura that was magnetic.
Not that anyone would be able to get Carmilla to admit that out loud. As far as they were concerned, Laura was just a smug, pint-sized pizza thief.
Eight competitors took the stage and though there were a couple of standouts, most of them ranged from average to frighteningly terrible. Laura was onstage in between every performance to introduce them, and whatever she thought of the poets, she was doing a good job of hiding it—or maybe she wasn’t as good as the Ginger Twins said she was.
The five poets going into the second round were announced before Laura called for a fifteen-minute interval. People filed out of the auditorium, wallets already halfway open as the lined up for the bar. Carmilla turned to Elsie, who still appeared perturbed by the final poet’s incoherent screeching about the soullessness of Tinder. “I could use another drink.”
Elsie glanced at her empty plastic cup of beer, then watched Carmilla drain the last of her pinot noir. “Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”
They went outside and waited in line at the bar. Fortunately, the service was quick. They stood in the lobby and sipped their drinks in silence. A lively conversation nearby caught their attention. It was Laura, talking to Perry and her friend—they introduced themselves as LaFontaine to Carmilla and Elsie earlier. Perry spotted them and waved them over.
“Oh, fuck,” Carmilla said.
“It’d be rude not to acknowledge it,” Elsie said. “Let’s just go say hi, okay?”
“Fine.”
As they walked over to the group, Elsie told Carmilla out of the corner of her mouth: “Be the bigger person.”
“I already am.” Carmilla fumed. She would have gotten that slice of pizza if Elsie didn’t tell Laura about the double bacon cheeseburger.
“Hey, Carmilla. Elsie,” Perry said. “Let me introduce you to Laura!”
Laura grinned at them. “Oh, we’ve kind of already met earlier, actually,” she told Perry. She turned back to them. “But it’s nice to know your names. Elsie.” She shook Elsie’s hand. “And Carmilla.” She took Carmilla’s hand in hers.
When Laura’s hand released hers, she swore that Laura’s fingertips brushed against her palm for longer than necessary. She certainly did not shake Elsie’s hand like that. Carmilla convinced herself that Laura was just a friendly, tactile person. No person would attempt to flirt with someone they had an argument with over food.
Carmilla’s thoughts were interrupted by Elsie excusing herself to talk to Danny and a bunch of other Summer Society girls. LaFontaine and Perry were also walking across the room to join some people that Carmilla recognised from her philosophy class.
So it was just her and Laura.
Great.
“Look,” Laura said, “I’m sorry about the pizza–”
“Honestly, it’s fine,” Carmilla said, paying more attention to her plastic cup of wine than to the girl in front of her.
Laura shook her head. “My first rule when I’m asked to be slammaster is to never go onstage hungry. These things can go wild directions. I knew getting the pizza was a long shot, but when your girlfriend mentioned that you had already eaten–”
“I said it’s fine, buttercup,” Carmilla said. “Just so you know, Elsie isn’t my girlfriend.”
“Isn’t she?”
“She isn’t.” Carmilla frowned. “What’s it to you, anyway?”
Laura bit her lip. “Just curious.”
“Or nosy,” Carmilla retorted.
“Hmm, no. It was a simple question and I got my answer. So thank you for that,” Laura said, though she didn’t sound very grateful. “And don’t tell me that it was a stupid question. She keeps paying for your drinks.”
“Maybe I’m broke and Elsie is just being a good friend. Double bacon cheeseburgers don’t come cheap, you know.”
“If they were actually that expensive, then you got ripped off. You were still hungry enough to hover by the pizza table,” Laura said.
Carmilla’s shoulders tensed. “And you were dumb enough to think that a university student would be selfless enough to split a slice of pizza in half for some weirdo who came late,” she said.
Laura flinched. “Jeez, you’re really taking this personally, aren’t you?”
“I’m not the one who brought it up first!”
“Well, let me say it again.” Laura’s fists were clenched. “I. Am. Sorry.”
“Same reply, cupcake. It’s. Fine.”
“I totally felt the sincerity there,” Laura said.
“What do you want from me?” Carmilla ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t even care about the fucking pizza slice, all right?” And she realised that she meant it. So why had she been so irritated? “If it’s going to help you sleep better at night, then you can make it up to me.”
For a moment, Carmilla thought she saw relief—or was it excitement?—flashing on Laura’s face. But just as quickly, it hardened. “You know what? I was going to offer to buy you pizza, but I’m thinking it’s not worth it,” she said. “I don’t have time for grumpy jerks.”
“Grumpy jerk?” Carmilla asked. She could feel a smile creeping on her face. “That the best you can do, cupcake?”
Laura’s face contorted in frustration. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by someone calling her name. With a final huff in Carmilla’s direction, she stomped off to the entrance to the auditorium.
When Carmilla settled back down inside with Elsie for the second round, she couldn’t help entertaining the inkling that she screwed up.
They were waiting for the judges’ deliberation before the competition could proceed to its final round, which was a showdown between three poets. In the meantime, Laura talked to the audience about casual topics. It didn’t involve food of any kind.
Finally, Danny went onstage with a piece of paper in hand.
“Here they are!” Laura said. She reached for the paper but Danny held it far out of reach, making for an amusing sight. “Come on, Danny!” she whined. “People are waiting.”
Danny pulled the microphone out of its holder and spoke into it. “Guys, Laura’s been a fantastic slammaster tonight, hasn’t she?” The audience cheered. “If it’s your first time delving into the world of slam poetry, then what you probably don’t know is that Laura is a crazy talented poet. She’s won her fair share of competitions, performed all over the place, and… she just published a book!”
“Danny,” Laura protested. She helplessly batted Danny’s arm.
“It’s called In the Loop, and it’s mostly poetry but there’s the odd essay thrown in,” Danny said. “It’s brilliant, they’re selling it at the university bookstore, so check it out.”
Laura slouched where she stood. “All right,” she said. “That’s enough now.”
Danny didn’t stop, though. “I have an idea,” she said to the crowd.
“Oh no,” Laura mouthed.
Carmilla’s insides knotted as she picked up on Laura’s discomfort.
“Let’s get Laura to perform one of her poems from this book to us,” Danny continued. She gestured to the crowd. “Laura. Laura. Laura. Laura…” They picked up the chant until Laura took the microphone out of Danny’s hands.
“Fine,” she said. “But only a little bit, because we’ve still got a poetry slam to finish!” She waited until Danny left the stage to put the microphone back on the stand. She stepped back a little bit, gazing at the floor. After a few seconds, she stepped back up to the mic and cleared her throat. And then she began.
Carmilla inched forward in her seat as Laura spoke in earthy, deliberate tones. Laura talked about water, and drowning, and the distinctions between being smothered and having one’s breath taken away. It might have been a simple metaphor, but Carmilla felt honoured to watch her tease it out, explore its every cranny.
The whole room seemed to echo her response. Their reactions were raw, oohing and aahing as Laura worked her way around elaborate turns of phrase. They snapped their fingers and hollered out in agreement as she landed wry arguments. How this small young woman could deliver with such an electric energy and a worthy gravitas, they didn’t know.
Hell, Carmilla eyes were locked with Laura’s for just about the entire time, and she didn’t know.
When Laura finished, Carmilla found herself cheering with the rest of the crowd. It was louder than any of the applause for the competitors, louder than that for Danny. And Carmilla believed that Laura deserved all of it. She clapped as hard as they did, and the muscles in her face twinged from smiling so hard. God, what was she doing? She was lucky that Elsie was too caught up in it as well to notice her.
The applause died down. Carmilla leaned back in her chair as Laura announced the finalists. She could not stop smiling. That was what it felt like to have her breath taken away.
By the time the judges decided on the winner, it was nearly ten-thirty. People filed out of the room almost immediately after the awards were given out. The night was just beginning for many of them.
Carmilla observed Elsie, who was putting on her jacket and arranging her scarf loosely around her neck. She couldn’t help wondering what the night had in store for them. They didn’t get to engage in their usual sexually charged tiptoeing around each other tonight, which, more often than not, evolved into blatant come-ons, then frantic kissing in apartment building hallways as they dug in their bags for their keys.
They were stepping out into the lobby when Elsie turned to her. Her fingers traced a trail down the inside of Carmilla’s arm. “Carmilla, hey,” she said, “tonight was fun and I’d love to keep hanging out with you, but some of the Summer Society girls are going to this ladies’ night at this rave club just outside of town, and they invited me.” She fumbled. “I mean, I guess you could come along as well—”
“Elsie,” Carmilla interrupted. “It’s cool. I’m just gonna go home. I need to read some Arendt for class.”
“Nerd.” Elsie was smiling.
“It was a class I skipped. I need to catch up,” Carmilla explained.
“Nerd,” Elsie repeated.
Carmilla gave a small smile in response. “We can hang again another night.” She wasn’t sure if she meant it.
“Yeah, we can,” Elsie said, in a tone that made Carmilla unsure of whether she meant it. She drew her hand away from Carmilla’s arm. “Anyway, they’re waiting for me.”
“Okay. I’ll see you around.” Carmilla watched as Elsie joined the group of Summer Society girls near the lobby doors. They went out into the night, talking and laughing loudly. Carmilla pulled her phone out to check the time. She replaced it in her pocket and reached inside her bag for her beanie. She was about to pull it on when she heard a voice from behind her.
“You’re still here.”
Carmilla turned around.
It was Laura. She had thrown a jacket over her top and had it zipped halfway. She looked tired, but her eyes were bright as she searched Carmilla’s face.
“Yeah, I am,” Carmilla responded. “Where’s your ginger entourage?”
“LaF had to work tomorrow and Perry had papers to mark, so they went on ahead.” Laura nodded towards the door. “Did your girlfriend run off with SumSoc?”
“I told you that Elsie’s not my girlfriend.” Carmilla cocked her head. “And your giant girlfriend was with them, too.”
It was Laura’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Danny’s not my girlfriend.”
“Opposites attract, so… I could’ve sworn she was,” Carmilla said.
“She was,” Laura emphasised. “But she’s not anymore. And hasn’t been for a while. Long story.”
“All right,” Carmilla said. “Maybe you can tell me over pizza.” She was suddenly aware of her dry throat and quickening heart rate. It was an unusual proposition, coming from her. But at this point, she was sure that she’d listen to Laura talk about anything. Even if it was about her mutant of an ex-girlfriend. “I know a place that has great deals by the slice.”
“Right now?”
“Well, it’s open twenty-four hours and I thought you might want to clear your debt as soon as possible,” Carmilla said. “I know you don’t think I’m particularly pleasant company—”
Laura cut her off: “Oh, you can be quite unpleasant.” But her expression softened. “I’ll go with you, though. I’m hungry again.”
“So am I,” Carmilla admitted.
“I do owe you one.”
Carmilla shook her head. “Forget about it.”
“Seeing as you referred to it as a debt, I have a feeling that you won’t be forgetting about it,” Laura said. “My treat, okay? So you can shut up about it once and for all.”
Well, Carmilla couldn’t argue with that. “Only if you shut up about it too.”
“Deal.” Laura nodded. “And I’m guessing you don’t actually want to hear about Danny.”
Carmilla wrinkled her nose. “Probably not tonight, cupcake,” she said.
“I knew it,” Laura said. She adjusted her backpack on her shoulders. “Shall we go?”
“Yeah, we should,” Carmilla said. She was smiling again, the way she did after Laura performed her poem earlier.
Laura grinned back. “All right. Lead the way!” But she walked alongside Carmilla as they headed to the lobby doors.
They stepped out into the chilly night together. Carmilla was hyperaware of the girl beside her. The smug, pint-sized pizza thief. The infectiously energetic slammaster. The clever, compelling poet. And beyond all of that, just a person she wanted to get to know deeply.
Laura must have noticed her staring. “What’s up?”
Carmilla simply smiled and shook her head. She allowed herself to wonder what the night had in store for them.