Phone calls at Runway were the most annoying thing. Once Emily tried to count how many phone calls she answered during her work hours, but she lost count at 104 and never tried again for the sake of her sanity. She got used to it now and pick up the phone after hearing it ring became almost a second nature for her.
That’s why she didn’t even flinched when the phone rang in the middle of her conversation with Serena. She simply raised one finger to ask the other woman to wait a second to finish her story about doing the make-up for a particularly annoying super model and reached for her phone since Andy wasn’t around.
“Miranda Priestly’s office.” She heard while a woman in the other side of the line strumbled in her words, until she finally was able to say anything useful. It was Sandra, from Fontainebleau, informing that Ms. Priestly – Emily cringed with that – forgot her contact lens in her room and that they could ship it to her if she would like it. Without thinking about it, Emily said yes, of course, why wouldn’t she, and hung up the phone.
When Serena started talking again, Emily’s mind couldn’t focus on her soft voice anymore. Not after she finally registrated Sandra’s words. Miranda forgot her contact lens in her hotel room? Since when Miranda use contact lens? As far as Emily was aware, she had a very large strenght of glasses prescribed to her, which made it kind of hard to use contact lens, not to mention that she never got used to it. As her first assistant, Emily was responsible for a lot of things, including get the new folders of every brand the soon they enter a new season. And Jesus, Miranda had a lot of glasses, that’s for sure.
But, again, it was Miranda Priestly they were talking about. The woman was a mistery in every breath she took, so maybe she did buyed contact lens – by herself, because Emily didn’t, for sure! – and decided to take them to Miami with her and forgot them in her hotel room. It doesn’t really mattered, because Sandra, from Fontainebleu, was going to ship it back to her and she wouldn’t even have to ask Emily to look for it. Crisis avoided.
Andy walked inside right when Serena was finishing her story. She was sent away to Calvin Klein while Emily was still getting Miranda’s Starbucks, so they hadn’t see each other yet, and Emily wished it had stayed like that. Andy was using what had to be the most hideous pair of glasses she had ever strumbled across. It was transparent, from the lens to the frame, and it was big, occupying almost half of her face and making her look ridiculous.
“Morning, Andy! Didn’t know you wore glasses.” Serena, always the good and cheerful soul, pointed at her own glasses – something much more fashionable and in season – and smiled at the second assistant with the brighest smile.
Andy returned her smile for a second, before frowning deeply. She threw herself in her chair and groaned. “I haven’t used this since freshman year in college.” She sighed. “I usually wear contact lens. I have trouble to read things from a distance.”
“I love my glasses to much to change them for lens.” Serena remarked with a wink.
Emily watched, in horror, as Andy laughed. “Don’t know the feeling. I hate to use glasses.”
“So why are you?” Emily grumbled under her breath while typing away some email.
“I forgot my lens in my trip.”
Her trip, right. It was the Monday after 4th of July weekend and Andy had informed, without being asked because Emily didn’t cared, that she was going away from town to celebrate or something like that. Serena probably knew where she went, but Emily wasn’t listening when...
Oh, bloody Hell.
Emily gasped so loudly that both women turned to look at her with wide eyes. Serena quickly moved to place a hand in her shoulder, but, right in that moment, Miranda stormed inside, majestic as always. Her coat, purse and a pile of papers landed at Emily's table a second after while the Editor kept walking to her office, not even sparing a look at any of them.
The redhead kept a closer look at both of them all day. There was nothing different in any of them – besides the fact that she couldn’t look at any of them in the eyes. Miranda was still Miranda, tall, strong, beautiful, imposing, grandiose. Andy was still Andy, clumsy, excited, vibrant and suitable. If Emily hadn’t be cursed with the knowledge, she would probably never have realized it, but now that she knew, she couldn’t forget it.
It wasn’t until later that day, when they were both tired – exausted beyond believe – that Emily could point out one single thing that could have been a proof that she hadn’t misurderstood all of it. Miranda had announced she was ready to leave and that she would wait the Book at 8pm sharp, so Andy had already called for Roy and Emily had gathered her things to wait for her to walk outside her office. When Miranda was slidding her arms inside the sleeves, she locked eyes with Andy, who was still sitting at her table, in the phone with Art Department to let them know they shouldn’t be late to deliever the Book that night.
Emily would never have a second thought about that if Sandra hadn’t informed her of anything, but now she was able to see the small smirk Andy offered the editor while talking with someone over the phone. Emily was standing besides Miranda, so she couldn’t see her full face, but the simple fact that she hadn’t fired Andy in the spot was enough confirmation. The British woman delayed her departure for a while, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that her co-worker, her right arm if she was being honest, and her boss were having romantic trips together and fucking behind closed doors.
But Miranda was still Miranda and Andy was still Andy, just like they were before Emily became anything but oblivous to the situation. So she gathered her things and left, flipping Andy the finger when the brunette told her to have fun with ‘Steve’, the fake boyfriend she had invented out of panic when her mother called a month before.
A week later, Emily slid a small box in Andy’s table while the second assistant was on the phone with Miranda’s lawyers. The brunette took a couple of seconds to recognize what that was, but her eyes went comically wide when she saw her lost contact lens right in front of her. Emily, who had already sat down in her own chair, locked eyes with her for a couple of seconds, raising one eyebrow. She was daring Andy to make a big deal out of it, since she wasn’t the one who was going to do it.
Andy relaxed visibly when she saw that Emily was going to keep a low profile about her discover. She smiled, a big thankful smile, grabbed the box and put it away in her top drawer. Miranda didn’t asked what had happened with her glasses when she returned from a meeting and Andy didn’t offered a explanation – to any of them. Weeks later, when Emily was celebrating her promotion and they were drunk in a bar with Nigel, Serena and half of Runway staff, the British woman squeezed Andy’s arm and whispered-screamed “you’re a crazy bitch!”. Andy laughed, but agreeded.
Nigel had know Miranda for twenty years – twenty-two if he was going to be precise. In those years, he got to know her in a more personal level than most people. He saw her get married the first time, he saw her getting pregnant, he saw her divorce, her second marriage, her second divorce, her third marriage and her third divorce. Nigel knew her better than probably any other person in her life, besides maybe her daughters.
But he wasn’t stupid enough to think he actually knew Miranda Priestly. There was many aspects of her life that he had no idea about. Nigel didn’t knew if she would rather eat chocolate cookies or apple pie, for example. He didn’t knew if she would allow the twins to put a cup of milk under the Christmas tree or even if she ever indulged them in the whole Santa Claus fantasy. He didn’t knew all the details of her divorces, hell, he didn’t even knew why Greg and her got divorced in the first place. One day they were married, and in the other they weren’t anymore.
However, there’s one thing he knew by heart. Miranda’s ringtones. She never changed it since she got her first mobile, which was quite surprising, because Nigel himself was always changing his to avoid the annoyance of getting bored of it. Miranda had a ringtone for the twins that was different from everyone’s else, so she knew when they were calling, and she had a ringtone for her alarms that was very specific. He had no idea how or why, but Miranda set her alarm with symphony nº 9 from Beethoven, and he knew that because they had shared an amount of flights and trailers during shooting.
So when he entered her office area and heard someone humming the tone, he was startled. Nigel, who was holding the new folder from Prada under his arm, stared at Andy while walking like she had just grow a second head. Which, considering the situation, he thought might be the truth. As far as he know, and Andy was very good at providing information no one asked for, Miranda’s second assistant was not very fond of classic music. Hate might be the word she used one day.
“My, my, Six.” He sang and the humming imediatly stoped. Nigel droped the folder on her table and looked down at her with questioning eyes. “Did the bug of first class rich people bite you?”
Andy blushed, which wasn’t unusual, and grabbed the folder between slightly shaking hands. She offered him a tigh smile and shrugged. “It’s not like I never heard anything from Beethoven, Nig.”
“Anything from Beethoven, she says.” He mocked. “Just one of the most famous composer of all times.” Nigel shook his head and reached for the folder, taking it out of her hands before she could get up. “Don’t bother, Six. I will bring it to her. Take this time to hear symphony nº 7.”
He was a step of enter Miranda’s office when it hit him. Nigel stoped walking like he had just hit a wall. Miranda, who saw him with the corner of her eyes, looked up to see what had caused him to stop, only to find him with large eyes staring blankly at something behind her. Before she could bark an order for him to get in and get going faster than an iceberg, Nigel turned around and walked back to Andy’s desk.
“What?” The assistant asked, looking a bit scared with his sudden change of mood.
Nigel opened his mouth, then closed, then opened again, then closed. In the end, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. “Just... Just thought I have heard something.” He offered.
Nigel was a very assertive guy, he was honest and sharp, and Andy never saw him lying before, not even to save someone’s feelings. So it was quite startling when she realized he was not just lying to her, but he was lying while standing right in front of her desk. Andy was about to ask him what was the matter when he raised his hand to stop her.
“I don’t want to know.” He declared firmly. Andy arched her eyebrows, too shocked to do anything else. “I don’t need to know how, why, when, who, how long or any other detail about it.” Nigel sighed and lowered his hand, suddenly looking ten years older. “Just do a pre-nup.”
Nigel was greated with a impatient Miranda, but he didn’t cared. She owed him for ruining Six’s company to him. He would never be able to share a room with her again without wondering if she knew all the answers to the questions he had about Miranda or if she, too, was left an arm lenght away for safety. Months later, when he heard from New Emily that Miranda demanded The New York Post to be delivered everyday, with no exception, in her desk, Nigel realized that Andy probably knew every answer to every question, even the ones he never thought himself.
Caroline used to sleepwalk when she was three. It almost gave her mother a heart attack the first couple of times it happened, not to mention that Cassidy, who was also too small to understand her medical condition, asked to have her own room just a year after. With medication and medical care, Caroline grew out of it, but the habit of waking up in the middle of the night stayed.
It was the most infuriating thing ever. In most days, Caroline was able to just turn around and go back to sleep, but in other days she wouldn’t be able to do it until she had a cup of milk. When she was small and wasn’t allowed to open the fridge by herseld, she had to either call her mom or craw into her bedroom and ask Miranda for it, but she quickly learned how to do it herself.
Now, age eleven – only a week away of being twelve, thank you very much – Caroline was more than able to go grab her own milk. Sometimes she would even eat some cookies before going back to bed, not that her mother needed to know that. In fact, Caroline was sure that her mother didn’t even knew she still needed to drink milk in the middle of the night sometimes. It had been years since the last time she woke Miranda up to ask for a cup of milk and, since they didn’t shared the floor anymore, it wouldn’t be surprising if her mother had no idea her night adventures still happened.
Something Caroline finally was sure when she walked inside her kitchen one night, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the sleep, and saw her mother standing with her back turned to the door. Caroline wasn’t a chatty person when she was tired, especially at 2am, so she didn’t said anything and her mother didn’t saw her, so she just kept walking to the fridge. Maybe Miranda had also woken up and had decided to drink water or even milk, like her.
Caroline had barely given another four steps when she realized that her mother wasn’t alone. The kitchen’s lights were off and the only light that crepted in the room was from the lamps outside the house shinning throught the kitchen’s window, so it was hard to see it at first, but slowly her eyes got adjusted and she was able to see long legs wrapped around her mother’s waist. Caroline stoped in her tracks imediatly, her mouth dropping to the floor.
Fully awake now, she finally realized that there were voices, soft and quiet, something that she should have realized before. Her mother was saying something, she recognized the strenght behind the quiet words and the other figure was waiting for her to finish. Caroline tried to see more and she was able to spot long arms around her mother’s neck, holding her close, and Miranda’s hands resting against skinny thighs.
“You promised me pancakes, you can’t charm your way out of it, Ms. Priestly.” It took Caroline almost a whole minute to identify the owner of that voice.
It wasn’t a voice she had heard much. In fact, taking the time her sister and her pranked the woman to go upstairs just to annoy her mother, and a couple of calls the assistant answered in her mother’s office when they called, Caroline had never heard it again. She knew her mother and her used to have meeting at her mother’s office at home sometimes, but the woman usually showed up after Cassidy and her went to bed. But there was no dennying it, especially when her mother turned her head to the side and the cheerful face of her mother’s second assistant, Andrea, appeared right in front of her.
“Don’t call me Ms. Priestly.” Caroline would have run to the hills if her mother ever talked with her like that.
But Andy laughed. She threw her head back and laughed so happily that Caroline almost envied her. “Or what? You’re going to punish me?”
The young girl had no idea why she would laugh if she was scared that her mother would punish her for doing something everyone knew they shouldn’t. You should never call Miranda by her last name, doesn’t matter who you think you are, no one is allowed to do so. And there was this woman, who was sitting in their kitchen counter like she had done it a million times before, doing what no one dared to do, drinking Caroline’s milk.
“Well...” Andy suddenly stoped talking when her eyes moved and spoted Caroline standing in the other side of the kitchen. In the dark, her face grew impossibly paler and she became almost as white as the milk Caroline was hoping she would drink before going back to bed.
The girl didn’t wanted to be around to see what her mother would do if she saw her walking around the house past bedtime, so Caroline turned on her bare feet and walked out of the kitchen like nothing was different from five minutes before. She slid under her covers, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to force herself to go back to sleep without her milk. Caroline had no idea how long she was there before her door opened.
She didn’t opened her eyes, but she could smell her mother’s strong perfume. There was a quiet thun in her nightstand, something that sounded like glass against wood, and then her bed sank by her side. Caroline was waiting for a scolding, but she received something way different.
Her eyes shot open before she could stop herself. Andy was sitting by her side in the bed. The woman had a gentle smile and looked quite normal just sitting there, looking at Caroline. The little redhead quickly realized she was using one of her mother’s silk pajamas, which explained why she could smell her mother’s scent before.
“Your mom went back to bed.” Andy offered when Caroline didn’t answered her. “She will fall asleep really fast, since she wasn’t the one that almost had a heart attack for seeing a kid in the darkness. Horror movie material, right there.” She chuckled softly at her own joke, but Caroline was too busy realising that her mother was still unaware of her night kitchen adventures. “Anyway, I brought you some milk, hope that’s what you went down to get.”
Andy got up after tapping her hand against Caroline’s ankle over the blankets and she was closing the door behind her before the girl could even understand what was going on. Caroline didn’t drank the milk that night – her mother did said inumerous times to never accept anything from strangers – but she did went back to sleep some time later.
After Andy and them had a official dinner to meet – not as her mother’s assistant or Andy’s boss’s daughters – and after they had an offical breakfest together weeks after the first dinner, Caroline finally accepted that it was okay to drink the milk Andy poured to her. And now she had company in her late night adventures, because Andy also had the habit of getting out of bed in the middle of the night to attack the fridge. Now they sat together in the kitchen counter, Caroline drinking her milk, Andy eating whatever she had decided to eat, until they both felt like they could go back to bed.
Cassidy was much more quiet than her sister, but she was much more observant. She was the one who realized first that their parents were getting a divorce, she was the one who realized her mother was getting married again, and she was the one who first said that Stephen was going to get kicked to the curbs at some point. She wasn’t much of a talker, but she was very good at watching.
She could see that her mother and her new assistant were much closer than any other employee her mother ever had. Miranda Priestly didn’t had many friends – if she even had one, which was a weird concept for her, because how could someone not have friends? – so it was clear that she was leaning in Andy more than she was used to. Cassidy could see how eager her mother would get every time the clock showed how long it would take until the Book would get delivered – until Andy got there. She could join the dots and bet that Andy stayed at their house for much longer than any other assistant ever did while delivering her mother's stuff.
Cassidy was clever. She loved detectives books and she loved mistery, but she wasn’t very good at finding out the truth without a little help. So she sneaked in Miranda’s office one day and tried to find a clue, anything, that would verify her suspicions. She looked up and down, every corners, and every drawer and found nothing. She saw in those romantic movies that sometimes valentines sent each other cards, love letters, teddy bears or whatever, but her mother had nothing, any of these.
Cassidy was about to give up, throwing away all of her work, when she heard her mother coming from the end of the hallway. She was talking with someone, probably on the phone since she was saying things about fancy brands, and Cassidy was fast to move so she wouldn’t be found in Miranda’s office looking at her things. She managed to make it look like she was exiting the bathroom across the hall and, when Miranda finally looked up, the woman had no idea that her daughter was trying to find incriminating evidence between her drawers.
To her surprise, Miranda raised her hand to stroke her hair a little, scratching her scalp with her long nails, and smiled down at Cassidy, before walking inside her office without missing a beat.
“Yes, I’m aware of that, but I need it done today.” Her mother was saying on the phone, angry as always. When she was small, Cassidy remembered, she was terryfied of that tone, even if it was never directed at her. “Today. I will have my driver stop by at 5, so it better be ready when he gets there. Yes, I know this is short notice, as you told me the other five thousand times since you picked up the phone.”
Now, much older, Cassidy thought it was funny when she talked like that.
“I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m telling you, Carl.” She almost spit the name out. “I need this necklace ready by 5pm today. Not 6pm, not tomorrow, not in a week. Today, at 5. That’s all.” Cassidy, who was standing outside the room not even trying to hide that she was listening, just smiled tiredly when Miranda looked at her. “What are you doing here, honey?”
“Just wanted to pee.” Cassidy shrugged. “I will play some video game.”
“Did you finished your homework already?”
Three days later, Cassidy was sitting in her kitchen table, trying to glue the other part of the fence at her scale model, when Andy walked inside, holding the Book under one arm. “Hi, Cassidy. Is your mom around? The Art Department said...”
“She’s in her office.” Cassidy quickly stoped her, already sensing that the woman would enter in a long description of her job, which no one had asked for.
“Thanks.” Andy took a second to turn around, probably because she was still walking towards the kitchen, and it was enough for Cassidy to see the shinning diamond resting proudly at her chest.
It was a necklace. She was sure the chain was made with silver, as was the pendant, that held a big diamond just in the corner of the letter ‘A’. Cassidy just knew, then and now, that she was right. There was no way an assistant would ever be able to buy something like that, especially a second assistant.
Months later, during their first official dinner to know each other other than Miranda’s other side of life – work and house – Cassidy got a glimpse of something shinning in her mother’s wrist. It was a new bracelet. Miranda usually didn’t wear anything on her wrists because she was using long sleevs most of the time, so it was a little weird to see it at first.
But Cassidy kept looking for a while, because she had already saw it before. The chain was silver and the small ‘A’ held the same diamond that called her attention the first time. She turned to look at Andy now, to see if the pendant had a twin somehow, but she was greated with something else in Andy’s necklace. Instead of the former ‘A’, she now held an ‘M’ proundly against her chest. Cassidy took less than two hours to realized they were keeping it for each other until they could use it as they should.
Nate always hated to wake up early. It was the biggest torture to him, which wasn’t that surpring considering his work schedules at the restaurants he worked at. It didn’t meant much, he still woke up and lived his life like everyone else, but it did mean he missed some stuff. Like hot coffee, fresh toasts and morning kisses. It was fine, he got used to it, he could live without it, just like he lived without reading the morning paper or watching silly cartoons.
So he never came across Page Six and the whole fuss they did when Miranda Priestly and Andrea Sachs confirmed their relationship. Nate never got a look at the articles, the accusations, the teasing, the jokes, the poking the dragon. He didn’t even saw the notes of their engagement or marriage. Not that it mattered. He was, after all, living a very nice life himself. He got himself a girl and a job, he even got a house and a car.
So when he walked in his restaurant – the one he became the co partner a few months before – and found his ex-girlfriend drinking at the bar, Nate was shocked, but thrilled. They exchanged greetings, an awkward hug, and then he set by her side, asking June, the bartender, to bring them some wine.
“What are you doing here at Boston?” He asked after they both had a glass in hand.
Andy, who didn’t looked like five years had passed since they last saw each other, smiled at him. “Oh, there’s this crazy thing Jimmy Choo decided to pull out this year.” She rolled her eyes. “Just before Fashion Week, he couldn’t have choose a better time, really.”
“So you’re still working in this... world.” Nate wasn’t bitter about it, he just didn’t understand why people thought fashion was so important. He would never understand how Andy, his nerd little Andy, became one of these people.
She shrugged. “I guess. I’m a freelance writer now. I was going to write about Fashion Week, but had to make a stop here first.”
“Yes. I write about a lot. Crimes, fashion, movies.” Andy shrugged again. “Whatever I feel like.”
“Is good to be my own boss, not going to lie.” They shared a laugh. “What about you?”
He told her. About the restaurant, about the girl, about the house and about the car. When he was done, Andy looked really happy for him and all bitterness he could ever had felt for her went away imediatly. Andy had such a pure soul, even when she was acting like one of the crazy ladies who waited in front of the stand everyday to fetch the new print of a fashion magazine.
“I need to say, Ms. Sachs, you look exactly the same.” Nate was drinking his second glass of wine, but Andy still hand’t touched her first one. It took him a while to remember that she hated wine. “I mean, is it still Ms. Sachs?” He teased with a wink.
Andy looked a little taken a back for a couple of seconds, before her eyes went wide. “Oh.” She breathed out. “You... I mean... I...”
“No, no, no.” Nate said quickly. “I didn’t meant it like... I would never, I mean...” He chuckled nervously. “I wasn’t hitting on you.”
“No, no, I mean, you didn’t know I...” Andy stoped talking, frowning deeply, before she sighed. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” No, Nate didn’t know whatever he was supposed to know apparently. Andy cleared her throat, before raising her hand in front of her face. There, big as a tooth, stood a diamond, followed by a simple golden band. “Oh, you got married! Andy, congradulation! I had no idea! I mean, Lily didn’t said a thing, I could have imagined, but wow.” Nate smiled happily. “So, not Ms. Sachs, huh?”
She shook her head and the glint in her eyes made him wonder if he was missing a joke. “No, not anymore. Well, quite, I suppose.” Andy chuckled. “Ms. Sachs-Priestly.”
“Sachs-Pri...” Nate’s words died in his throat. For a second, or a minute, he wondered if he had walked inside a altenative world when he left his car, but he had no time to lay in the question for longer.
“Yes.” Andy nodded and chuckled again, a bit happier this time. “Guess I was in a relationship with the person who was calling me, after all.” She joked.
It was the smile on her face, the shine in her eyes and the fact that she was swirling her rings distractdly that stoped Nate to say anything. He wanted to ask if she was crazy, if she had cheated on him, if she was joking, if she had hit her head against the pavement. Instead, he looked at the door when he heard a small commotion starting. There, gradiose standing, was Miranda Priestly.
He had never saw her in person, but he could see her cold eyes scanning the room, until they layed in Andy, sitting in the bar. Her eyes imediatly became soft and her body relaxed while she walked towards them. No. Towards her wife. Nate didn’t even think, he simply slid of his bench and walked away, allowing her to take his place.
Later, he would Google and read all the things he missed those five years he slept until late. He would find out about their big coming out moment, about the first Paris Fashion Week they atended as a couple, about all the vacations they took together, about all the times Andy picked the twins from school, about every time Miranda went to support Andy in the awards for her articles, about the engagement annoucement. He would see all the pictures they released to the press of their wedding – all the three of them – and he would read about all the times they had to deny the rumors that Andy was pregnant.
Then, Nate would close every article and Page Six tab, and he would smile.
Mr. and Ms. Sachs
“Can you open the door, please?”
Richard and Alisson Sachs barely had time to consider the words her daughter was shouting from inside her apartment, before the door swing open and they were greated with blue piercing eyes and white hair. They turned to look at each other, too shocked to say or do anything else. They had searched for the woman’s face when their daughter started to work for her, but they never thought they would have to face the woman who made Andy’s life a living Hell for the past year.
Miranda, Richard and Alisson said it all at the same time and suddenly they stoped to stare at each other again. Alisson, as short as she was compared to her husband and anyone else in their family, was able to spot something moving behind the woman standing at the door. It was Andy, holding a towel in her wet hair, wearing some old pajamas.
“Who’s it, honey?” She asked, busy looking down to notice anyone.
“I have no idea.” Miranda’s voice was much sharper than any of them could have imagined. It held an icy tone on it, like it was trying to push a knife right into your back, and the pointdly look she shot them wasn’t helping either.
“Andy, what is this woman doing at your house?” Richard demanded, not looking away from the woman blocking his way to get to his daughter.
Andy’s eyes met the three of them so fast that she was probably dizzy for a while. It took her two hours to explain to her parents that yes, Miranda and her were together. No, she wasn’t crazy. No, it wasn’t some weird PTSD. No, it wasn’t a joke.
When Miranda made her escape, not bothering to be civil towards the people who had treated her like she didn’t even existed during all dinner time, she was sure she was just entering the limbo of parents in law all over again. Five days later, Andy received a text from her mother, saying that she could get married in white silk, just like her. That was when Andy draw the line for them, there was a limit and you can’t ignore signs when you see them.
Doug and Lily
They were reaching out an olive branch, so to say. Since Andy and Nate broke up, about nine months prior, their relationship had being kind of shitty. There was always this weird feeling between them, they barely talked anymore and they were always going out of their way to avoid each other. But, since Nate was finally happy in his new life, and since they were missing their high school friend, Doug and Lily decided to make emends.
That’s why they agreeded to stop by their favorite pizza place to grab Andy’s favorite – pepperoni and olives – to have a friends’s date night like old days. It was a Friday night and they were expecting to find her in her apartment, except that no one answered the door when they knocked.
"Wasn't you supposed to check if she was going to be at home?" Lily asked with a frown.
"How was I supposed to ask her that if we were going to surprise her?"
"What are we going to do now?"
Doug opened his mouth to sugest that they leave and try again - and call Andy the next time - when they heard giggles coming up the stairs in the corner. They turned around, ready to face her old friend and scream a 'Surprise!', but Andy's voice stoped them.
"I swear I need to move to a new building. Somewhere with an elevator."
"And functional plumbing." There was a second voice, much deeper and missing the cheeful tone that Andy held. "And where we won't die when we step out of the car."
There was a pause, a loud bump, steps getting closer and then they finally saw Andy, walking backwards from the stair. "If you would agree to take the subway with me..."
She couldn't finish her sentence. Before anyone could blink, her or her friends standing by her door, Andy was pushed against the hallway wall. The air was knocked out of her lungs with a loud 'huff', but she didn't had time to recover. Soon, a tall slim figure, with hair white as snow and clothes that costed more than the entire building, pinned her against the grey wall, hands quickly moving. One of her hands went up to grasp at Andy's hair, pulling her head behind to expose her pale neck, while the other one started to undo the buttons on her shirt with little to no care.
Andy didn't sit and wait, she raised one leg to the woman's waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Her finger digged in strong shoulders like she was holding for her life. It was when a quiet moan escaped her lips, when the white haired woman bite down on her jaw, that the other two jumped back to reality.
"Girl!" Doug's voice was a squeak, so high and pitch that Lily winched by his side.
But it was effective, because both women making out against the wall jumped away from each other like they were on fire. No one had time to recover from the shock before Doug started to laugh hysterically. Lily, who was holding the pizza box against her chest like a shield, looked at him like he had finally gone insane.
“Oh, boy!” He breathed out between laughs. “Thank God we ordered the bigger one, because I’m going to need to eat the stress away.”
A week later, Andy moved out of her apartment and into Miranda’s townhouse. The woman’s arguments were pretty effective: Andy’s leasing contract was going to expire anyway, her plumbing wasn’t working and there were days where she had to use the kitchen sink to brush her teeth, she had noisy neighboors in the top and bottom floor, it was far too away from her work and it didn’t had a security system. Andy tried to argue saying that the system was broken, that’s why Doug and Lily managed to sneak inside her building like that, but Miranda wasn’t having it – Andy decided not to mention that the security system wasn’t working for about two years now and no one decided to call someone to fix it.
The last argument, the one that sealed the deal for Andy, was when Miranda whispered around a hard nipple: “Because I want you to.” Well, Andy wasn’t used to deny anything for the woman and she was not going to start in that moment, for sure. After everything was seattle and done, Andy called her old friends and invited them over for dinner. Doug imediatly said yes, but Lily said she had some other obligation to attend. She used the same excuse for six months.
They had a lot in common, surprisingly. Andy was very tended to ramble when she got nervous and God knows just how nervous she could get around Miranda. Her strenght could only reach a limit and, sometimes, she slipped and started talking about random stuff, doing small talk, something that Emily was always very clear that Miranda hated, fucking hated.
The first time it happened, Miranda glared at her in a way that made her believe she was going to combust right there. The second time, Miranda stared at her until her words died in her throat. The third time, Miranda simply walked away and left her talking by herself. The fourth time was over the phone and the editor ended the call before Andy could even think about it. There is only a change around the thirteenth time.
Nothing special was happening in the thirteenth time, Andy wasn’t saying anything particularly interesting, at least not to the editor, and they weren’t stuck in a room together where Miranda couldn’t simply ignore her. In fact, Andy was talking about the time she went to an exposition about Old Hollywood Story. And Miranda listened to her. Of course, the woman didn’t said anything, she didn’t offered a story back or even aknowledge the fact that Andy talked at all, but the assistant knew she was listening to her.
So Andy talked. And she talked again, and again, and again, and again, and Miranda never interrupted her. After a while, after many stories, Miranda started to nod and hum and even chuckle softly at whatever silliness Andy was telling her. They were already dating for a month when Miranda finally interrupted her to say something – it was small, she was simply informing that she had got stuck in a snow storm once – but it meant the world to Andy.
Miranda was open up, slowly, one layer at the time, like na onion. Baby steps, but, unlike Miranda, Andy didn’t mind moving at a glacial pace.