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What a beautiful day!
Barbie licked a stripe across her scoop of cotton candy-flavored ice cream, saving a few droplets from dribbling onto her cone and creating a sticky mess of colorful, chemical dyes, the dessert so thoroughly artificial, but oh, still so completely and irresistibly delicious. The neon pink and blue of it smeared into a soft lilac as they mixed together gently from Barbie’s tongue. She had yet to understand how this phenomenon was even possible, how a third, secret color could be unlocked and made by two previous ones.
It was so easy to simply accept the fact and move on, like with so many things, but Barbie just couldn’t bring herself to do it. To be so dismissive. She had only been human for a few months now, and so everything was an opportunity to learn. Even the mundane things like this, which somehow felt even more exciting than the bigger, more ‘necessary’ things.
Small, nuanced everyday things didn’t really need an explanation, but there was one regardless, if someone was so inclined to want it.
And Barbie did. But that wasn’t so important right now.
Instead, she made a mental note to add Cotton candy ice cream to her list of the prettiest things she had seen ever since she started living in the Real World.
It would go right below Gloria’s hair when she took it out of her messy bun, scribbled and submitted in pink ink just last night after Gloria had taken a shower but admitted to being too lazy to wash her hair, instead letting it be in a slightly tousled state for the night, as she and Barbie ate leftovers on the couch and sipped on some red wine, watching true crime documentaries with Barbie’s head on Gloria’s lap, while Sasha and her friends had their sleepover upstairs.
(It saved Sasha from another night of having to sit around and watch her mom and Barbie make heart-eyes at each other, at least.)
In the morning during breakfast, the teen girls—much to Sasha’s embarrassment—had been all over Barbie, practically begging for her to join them for the day.
The invitation had Barbie almost unbearably overwhelmed with joy. Her blue eyes twinkled brightly with happiness, a brilliant smile on her face, as she turned to look at Gloria sitting right beside her, as if sharing the great news privately, as if saying Can you believe it!
Gloria’s hand caressed Barbie’s gently under the table as Barbie fought back ecstatic tears at the prospect of Sasha and her friends wanting to spend time with her.
“You don’t think I’m a fascist anymore?” She asked in awe, looking so touched, her voice trembling with emotion.
And had it been anyone else, it would have felt like a jab. Like something petty. But Barbie was not capable of this, not capable of being malicious, especially not towards Sasha, and there was a wholesome sense of innocence in her disposition, something so pure that permeated her every word and action.
And all at once, Sasha felt guilty. Again.
“Hey, that was all Sasha’s thing, not mine,” Jade threw out, lightheartedly. She held her hands up in a faux-defensive manner, as Sasha scoffed and reached over to smack her.
A playful banter erupted, and Barbie melted into a light laughter, wiping at invisible tears and trying her best to get the urge to cry to subside. That was one thing she still really needed to work on: controlling her emotions.
(But again, there was something so sweet in this. And Gloria sometimes secretly hoped Barbie wouldn’t be able to tame that part of herself, because it was just a part of Barbie to feel so intensely, and it was so beautiful.)
Sasha, though playing at slightly-opposed, was secretly very happy when Barbie said yes.
It was one thing to hang out with Gloria and Sasha around the house, or in unassuming yet necessary places, like the grocery store or school.
But this? Barbie thought. To have Sasha actually want to spend time with her? Outside, in public, with her friends, on a weekend?!
(Well, okay, Sasha had never outright said she wanted it, but she didn’t oppose it! And for Barbie, that was more than good enough.)
Anyways, so this is how they ended up in Santa Monica today, spending the afternoon hanging out while Gloria tended to some small matters for Mattel, catching up on some paperwork and maybe even getting ahead for next week.
It was strikingly warm in Los Angeles, the only temporary refuge being the sea breeze, coming from the ocean as the waves crashed pleasantly below them, a cool, delightfully refreshing air brushing across the Santa Monica Pier, decorated with tourists and things to do.
“It’s such a nice day out, isn’t it?” Barbie hummed happily. “Oo, sunglasses!” She spotted a small sunglasses store and made a beeline for it, suddenly distracted by all the different pretty colors and styles of the accessory.
“Barbie!” Sasha exclaimed half-heartedly, knowing it was no use to try and deter her. Not wanting them all to become separated, she beckoned for Yasmin, Cloe, and Jade to follow her into the shop, trailing behind Barbie. They smiled politely in return as the workers greeted and welcomed them in.
“Oh, they’re with me,” Barbie grinned, already donning a pink pair of rectangular sunglasses that were sitting halfway down her nose, as her blue eyes flitted sweetly between the teens, before she turned back to the shop worker that was helping her, conversing with her as if the two of them were longtime friends who did this every weekend.
Sasha snorted softly with laughter, redirecting herself to the other side of the store where her friends were.
“You know, I’m really glad you like Barbie now,” Yasmin spoke quietly so Barbie wouldn’t hear her. She mindlessly grabbed a pair of obnoxiously flashy sunglasses and put them on. She turned to look at Sasha, keeping her face blank and serious while the glasses’ large, gold-mirrored lenses reflected horribly and made her look like a bug. “She’s really cool.”
“And pretty,” Cloe chimed in. “What do you think of these?” She wore a simple black, butterfly-shaped pair of glasses.
“They’re okay,” Yasmin replied, shrugging.
“I’m really happy Barbie’s here, too,” Jade added distractedly, grabbing pair after pair to try on for fun. “Beats having to be stuck at home with my Dad and the Wicked Witch,” she made a face at the codename for her stepmother.
“Okay, wait,” Sasha shook her head, processing. “Since when are you all such huge fans of Barbie?” She wasn’t upset or anything, just genuinely curious. Seeing as how they had been the ones who begged Barbie to come today and were now gushing over how amazing she was.
(Which, okay, she was all of those things. Cool. Pretty. And Sasha did like her now, very much so. But that’s not the point.)
Jade shrugged loosely and answered first. “I’ve always liked her,” she admitted. “And it doesn’t take a genius to know why. ” She slipped another pair on. “One: she’s a tall, hot, and nice woman.” She listed off one finger. “And two: I’m gay.” She slipped the pair of sunglasses off, putting them back on the shelf. “Honestly, if my stepmom was as hot as Barbie, I don’t think I’d ever leave the house.”
Yasmin and Cloe rolled their eyes, laughing at the remark.
Sasha, on the other hand, felt mildly mortified.
“Oh my God, stop, stop,” she tucked her burning face into her hands, just wanting to shrink away and hide upon one of her best friends talking about Barbie this way. It was like someone saying they had a crush on her Mom or something, it—
Wait.
“What? It’s true,” Jade went on, not fazed in the slightest bit. “At first, I didn’t know what to see her as… like, was she your Mom’s hot friend? Maybe?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t really fit. Not anymore at least. She’s like Sasha’s other mom,” Cloe said.
“She’s like…” Yasmin paused, thinking. “Like a really young, cool and pretty mom.” She nodded, looking sure of herself and pleased with this description. “OH MY GOD!” Her eyes widened suddenly, a look of excitement flashing across her features, as she clutched Sasha’s arm. “GUYS! She’s literally a MILF!” She quietly exclaimed, looking quickly between her friends, acting like they had just found something incredibly rare in the wild.
“Who’s a MILF?” The four teens startled and whipped around, met with Barbie, who was still oblivious, but contained an expression of curiosity, a smile on her face.
“Barbie!” Sasha squeaked, her face still feeling hot. “What are you doing? We thought you were still shopping.”
“Oh, I didn’t wanna buy anything unless you girls wanted something too,” she explained.
“Aww, Barbie,” Cloe smiled. “That’s nice. But I don’t have $200 to spend on sunglasses.”
“I could buy them for you!” Barbie offered.
“Absolutely not,” Sasha answered for them, reaching out to grab Barbie and turn her around, shoving her out of the store before she could try and persuade them any further into letting Barbie spend her money on them. It was very hard to say no to Barbie sometimes, especially when she was trying to do things for other people. And being part of the receiving party only made it even more difficult. So really, Sasha was doing them all a favor.
“Oh, okay. Bye!” Barbie called out to the worker, waving as the five of them left the store and were back outside, walking on the boardwalk. “So who’s a MILF again?” Barbie persisted.
“You are!” Jade answered.
“Oh!” Barbie beamed, feeling a tiny bit accomplished. “Well, thank you,” she paused, blinking as they all walked in silence for a beat or two.
“So what is that, exactly?” Barbie asked. She had merely assumed it was a compliment based on how the teens seemed to be snickering and smiling to themselves, like it was a conspiratorial thing, but retained a nature that was still pleasant.
“It’s an acronym,” Yasmin explained. “It means Mother I’d Like to—”
“Be Friends With!” Sasha cut her off, clearing her throat. “It basically describes a woman who’s cool and that you’d like to be friends and hangout with,” she rambled, trying her best to not sound so uneasy, despite the fact that she was feeling more and more embarrassed by the second and her heart was racing. She shot a look to her friends, silently communicating for them to not correct her on this and to just let it slide.
“Oh,” Barbie nodded, taking this information in and smiling to herself.
What a sweet thing to say about someone, she thought. And the fact that the definition seemed to branch out and encompass all older women who didn’t necessarily need to be mothers in order to be included only made it all the more enticing to Barbie. It was so nice to know that there was such a widespread affection and appreciation for women that an acronym had even been made up for it. And not only that, but it was also so clearly popular!
“I wish I had known about this sooner,” Barbie spoke her thoughts aloud. She surveyed the area and took in all the faces of all the different women on the boardwalk. “Every woman here is a MILF!” She chirped, outstretching her hands slightly to beckon at them. She sighed dreamily, distracted by her love for the female presence and consequently missing the way Sasha was practically choking on her own spit, her friends on the cusp of erupting into full cackles. “So many MILFs here…” She hummed quietly, glancing here and there.
It was true! Every one of these women Barbie wanted to be friends with and get to know. There were some women with children, some without. Some with sleeves of tattoos and some with piercings, some with a glamorous, full set of makeup, some bare-faced and sweaty from a run, and gorgeous. There were so many different kinds, with all sorts of appearances. All sorts of stories. Of experiences. Different sets of irrational fears. Of dreams and aspirations. Multiple different careers. Different pets at home. Different favorite movies, favorite foods, favorite colors. And yet, they all, in the end, belonged to the category of women.
Barbie loved them.
“Do you think I should go over and tell some of them?” Barbie asked the teenagers. Surely, a compliment like that would make their day, right? It had made Barbie’s! “I think I’m going to.” She said confidently, taking a step towards a small group of women.
“NO!” Sasha exclaimed, louder than she intended, startling Barbie. “I mean,” she gripped Barbie by the arm, pulling her back. “My head’s actually starting to hurt, a little bit. I think it’s the heat. Can we go home?”
“A headache?” All at once, the so-called ‘MILFs’ were forgotten, as Barbie’s face became laced with concern and she pressed the back of her hand to Sasha’s forehead, testing for a fever the way Gloria had taught her. She didn’t actually know what a normal temperature should feel like, so it was useless, but still.
“Of course, let’s get you home,” she exhaled, a little anxious with worry. “Um…” She fiddled with her hands, seeming to consider something. She tentatively reached out to put an arm around Sasha’s shoulders, her hand hovering before actually coming into contact. “Can I?...” She asked for permission.
And Sasha, despite being in a rush to get out of the situation, found this gesture to be incredibly endearing, and she faltered for a moment. The need for Barbie to so clearly want to first establish respect and comfort, but still want to be affectionate, softened Sasha.
She found that Barbie did that a lot to her.
She nodded, and Barbie let her hand rest on Sasha finally, bringing her gently into her side as they began walking. Sasha’s head rested on Barbie’s collarbone, and Barbie used her height as an advantage to shield Sasha from the sun, nearly resting her chin on the top of Sasha’s chin to block the light out as fully as possible.
If her friends ever asked her about the warm, almost devastating sense of contentment that fluttered in her chest—like a deep, prolonged yearning finally brought to the surface, fulfilled, and put to rest—Sasha would lie.
—
On the way home, Barbie hypothesized that maybe it’d be best if Sasha’s friends were to go home.
Sasha needed some time to rest and recover, and if this was some sort of bug or illness going around as opposed to a simple migraine, then it was all the more reason to part ways and place a good, protective distance between themselves.
(They all, of course, knew it was all fake, but they couldn’t burst Barbie’s bubble.)
So, they all got back to Sasha’s house, gathered their things, and left. Gloria was still at the Mattel office, and by this point, Sasha had Barbie more or less about seventy five percent convinced that she was feeling a lot better, but still she knew that Barbie wasn’t going to let this go. She made some half-hearted excuse that it must have just been the heat mixed with dehydration, and even made it a point to chug a glass of water in front of the blonde.
Barbie was still not entirely convinced though, and suggested to Sasha that she should lie down and rest for a while, at least until Gloria got home. She would know how to handle this better.
Sasha conceded, taking a painkiller and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer to place on her forehead, stating that she would be in her room taking a nap.
“Okay!” Barbie called to her as she went up the stairs, trying not to have too much enthusiasm or pitch in her voice so as to not worsen Sasha’s headache. “Enjoy your nap and feel better. I promise I’ll be quiet.”
Sasha didn’t respond, but a few seconds later Barbie heard the door to her room close.
Barbie stood in the foyer for a few seconds, not knowing what to do to keep herself entertained.
She eventually decided to first get out of her outfit and into a more comfortable one, seeing as how she was slightly damp and clammy from a dried layer of sweat on her skin. She padded softly upstairs to her room and peeled off her clothes, debating whether to quickly rinse off or if the sound of running water would be too annoying.
Luckily, her room was at the opposite end of the hall from Sasha’s, and so she decided that it would be okay. Nevertheless, she tried to be as speedy as possible, tying her hair up and scrubbing any grime off, letting the cool water wash it away.
When she got out, she dressed in some lounge pants and a cropped tank, brushing through her hair to get rid of any tangles before tying it up into a ponytail, brushing her fringe carelessly to the sides of her face.
Imagine her surprise when she crept back downstairs as quietly as she could and was met with Sasha strewn across the armchair in the living room, a bag of chips open on the coffee table and the remote in her hand as she browsed through the catalog on some streaming platform.
“Sasha!” Barbie gasped, startled, her hand coming up reflexively to her chest. “You scared me! I wasn’t expecting you down here,” she tried to get her breathing back to normal. “What are you doing? I thought TV and electronics weren’t good for headaches.” Right? She thought she had read or heard that somewhere…
“I lied.” A chip crunched in Sasha’s mouth, as she continued to look for something to watch, her eyes still glued to the screen.
“What?” Barbie frowned.
“I didn’t actually have a headache,” Sasha confessed. “I just wanted an excuse to come home.” And to prevent you from parading around Santa Monica calling every woman a MILF, she had as an afterthought. She groaned in annoyance dramatically. “There’s nothing good to watch,” she huffed, tossing the remote aside and finally turning to look at Barbie.
She sighed. “Sorry I lied, and if I… worried you or whatever,” she said, genuinely feeling a little bad but also feeling a bit awkward at all this; she wasn’t used to apologizing, or dwelling on any emotion for that matter. She was a teenager, after all, and her mood could go from enraged to in love within the span of five minutes.
“Oh…” Barbie accepted softly, nodding absently to herself, her eyebrows furrowed in the slightest bit of concentration. She walked over to the couch and sat down. “That’s okay, I’m just really happy you’re okay,” she looked at Sasha, giving her a small smile. “But… I also want you to know that…” She paused, biting softly down on her bottom lip, wanting to be tactful in her approach to this. “You don’t have to… lie to me, or have an excuse or anything, you know.” She toyed with her fingers nervously, trying to gather her thoughts and figure out the best way to put them into words. “I just mean… I don’t want you to feel like you ever need to explain yourself to anyone, especially not to me, if you ever no longer want to do something.” She scooted closer to the edge of her seat, reaching over to hesitantly place her hand over Sasha’s, her movement still cautious so as to not overstep any potential boundaries.
Sasha, however, merely looked at Barbie curiously, her brown eyes full of a patient question. She didn’t pull away from the touch, either, so Barbie took this as a good sign.
Her thumb stroked a single time across Sasha’s knuckles, the gesture so implicitly loving. “I want you to know that you can just tell me, that you want to go home, or you don’t want to do something, and I will always listen to you and respect that. And I’ll get you away from there or out of the situation entirely, no matter what it is. Okay?” She gave Sasha’s hand a gentle squeeze, looking at the young girl with all the affection and protectiveness in the world.
And Sasha didn’t really know how to feel about all of this.
(Well… actually, she did. The answer was easy: she felt like crying.)
But she would never admit to it, that Barbie had broken through her toughened exterior time and time again, with her sweet words and gentle contact and her unrelenting need to just impress Sasha almost, to get the teenage girl to like her. She was so devoted and so determined to win Sasha over, to have her approve of Barbie, and it made Sasha almost want to run away, internally cringing at herself for ever being so callous when they first met, for ever making Barbie cry.
But of course, these things could only exist quietly in Sasha’s head, where no one else had to know about them.
She had a reputation to uphold, after all.
Sasha leaned forward in her seat and hugged Barbie tightly. “Okay,” she responded quietly. “Thank you, Barbie. And I know that you’ll always listen to me and have my back. I trust you.”
And, before Barbie could stop it, there they were again: those tears that welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill over. A smile broke out onto her face, and she hugged Sasha closer to her, for a moment, before they broke apart.
“Sorry,” Barbie sniffled with a bashful little laugh, wiping away at her eyes, her nose turning pink from the rush of emotion.
“It’s cool,” Sasha shrugged it off nonchalantly. “I already know you cry at everything,” she teased with a wry little smirk.
“Oh, shut up,” the blonde laughed, shoving Sasha lightly.
“But anyways,” Sasha stood up from her seat in the armchair and walked over to the DVR setup below the TV. “Seeing as how there’s nothing good to watch and I’m bored, I think it’s about time I show you the world of video games.” She picked up the two Wii remotes they had, turning to wiggle them at Barbie. “Well, there are a lot of other, better consoles and games, but Wii’s are classic, so it’s fine.”
Sasha helped Barbie slip on the safety strap of the remote, securing the clasp around her wrist, before the two of them flitted through the collection of games and began playing.
–
The living room was filled with music and laughter when Gloria got home. She closed the door shut behind her and locked it, curious as to what could possibly sound and seem so entertaining, and also be distracting enough to divert the attention away from her coming back home.
Not that she needed all eyes on her, of course, but… well… Barbie usually greeted her very enthusiastically and warmly whenever Gloria got home from somewhere, with a big hug and little babbles of interesting or cool things she had seen or done throughout the day while Gloria was gone, and her eyes always sparkled with so much excitement, and her smile was dazzling, and her embrace was always firm around Gloria, as if she refused to let go after already being apart from her for so long, and it always felt like all of these tiny little things that comprised Barbie in that moment were meant for Gloria and Gloria alone, and well—
Gloria just liked the routine, okay? That was it. There was nothing more to it.
She placed the Italian takeout she had gotten for dinner on the kitchen island, before quietly making her way over to the living room and peeking into it, met with the sight of Barbie and Sasha in the middle of playing Just Dance.
“Why is this one so HARD!?” Barbie exclaimed, exasperated, as she struggled to follow along with the fast-paced, complicated choreography of Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance’ on the screen.
Gloria watched as, beside her, Sasha threw her head back, laughing at how ridiculous Barbie looked as she tried to keep up. Full, wholehearted laughter, to the point where Sasha was clutching at her stomach to try and control it, nearly in tears.
It had been a long time since Sasha had laughed like that, a long time since Gloria had witnessed so much unadulterated glee and amusement coming from her daughter. Gloria smiled widely to herself at the sight, her hand coming up to softly trace at her heart, as if committing this moment to memory forever.
(Which she was.)
She crept quietly back over to the kitchen, not wanting her presence to disturb their fun or for them to suddenly jump and toss the video game to the side, embarrassed and awkward.
“I’m home!” She called out from the kitchen, setting the oven to preheat in preparation for the breadsticks that she needed to place inside for a few minutes so that they could have them with their pasta. The game paused in the living room and footsteps quickly shuffled over to her, growing louder.
“Hey, Mom,” Sasha said.
“Gloria!” Barbie beamed. “You’re back! Oh, I missed you so much,” she wrapped her arms around Gloria’s waist from behind, bending down to kiss her cheek. “How’s my favorite MILF doing?”
Sasha sputtered, mid-sip on her glass of water, nearly spitting it all out had it not been for her hand coming up to her mouth to save it.
Gloria’s face flushed, her mouth dropping open slightly at the comment.
“Your favorite what?” She held back laughter, an amused tone in her voice as she adjusted herself to be able to turn her head and look up at Barbie.
“I have to use the bathroom!” Sasha said quickly, just as Barbie was opening her mouth to respond. She scrambled out of her seat and dashed away, not wanting to be present when the inevitable truth had to be unfolded and explained to Barbie.
“My favorite MILF,” Barbie reiterated. “ You, duh.” She said, in a lilt that made it sound like the fact was obvious.
This time, Gloria couldn’t hold it back. She broke into a fit of giggles, briefly. “Oh, honey,” she brought her hand up to rest on Barbie’s shoulder. “Do you know what that stands for?”
“Of course I do. Sasha and her friends told me, after Jade called me one.” Barbie replied. “It means Mom I’d Like to Be Friends With. And you’re my best friend, so obviously you’re my favorite MILF.” She hummed, wrapping her arms a little tighter around Gloria. “I hope I’m your favorite, too.”
“You are my favorite, in a lot of ways,” Gloria reassured her with a smile. “But Barbie, honey… that’s not what MILF stands for. MILF stands for Mother I’d Like to Fuck.”
Barbie blinked, her eyebrows shooting up. “ Oh,” she blushed. “Oh, wow…” She took a second to process the new, real definition.
“Well,” she sighed happily, a smile on her face again. “I don’t think that really changes anything. You still are one, and you’ll always be my favorite everything.” She unwrapped her arms from Gloria and began to tug her towards the living room. “Now, c’mon! There’s a song on Just Dance that I wanna do with you!”
Gloria, still trying to cope with the fact that Barbie had just indirectly admitted that Gloria was someone she’d like to fuck, stammered her way through her brain to try and use her words, urging the blush on her cheeks to not be so furious.
“I- wait, I still have to put the breadsticks in,” she stuttered, clambering about to haphazardly rip open the package of breadsticks before sliding them into the oven.
“How long will that take?” Barbie asked.
“Hmm… maybe like ten minutes?” Gloria estimated.
“That’s perfect!” Barbie grabbed Gloria’s hand again. “It gives us enough time for the game!” She dragged Gloria over to the living room until they were right in front of the TV. “Sasha said you love this song, and the dance requires two people.” She slipped the Wii remote onto Gloria’s wrist, her fingers brushing lightly along the skin as she did the little clasp on it. Barbie had to force herself not to blush.
“I don’t know about this…” Gloria said apprehensively. “I’m not much of a dancer anymore. Maybe when I was younger, and after a couple of drinks.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Barbie replied. “We’re going to do great.” She exited the screen of ‘Bad Romance’ that she had paused on, scrolling through the songs until she found the one she had in mind.
“Aw, I do love this song!” Gloria smiled, and even more so upon the fact that Sasha had remembered such a detail, as the gentle beat of Enrique Iglesias’s ‘Bailando’ sounded from the screen.
Barbie watched Gloria’s face as she quietly began humming along to the song’s preview, her lips moving almost invisibly along with the Spanish lyrics.
She looks so beautiful, Barbie thought. She always does. And there was a sort-of swelling, somewhere, in her belly, an almost woozy sensation that overtook her and momentarily made her feel weak.
And, again, she made a mental note to write this moment down in her list of prettiest things in the Real World. And really, more than half those things included Gloria’s name somewhere in them.
“Ready to dance?” Gloria’s voice brought Barbie out of her reverie, as she selected her character and pressed to continue.
“Yes!” Barbie snapped out of it, selecting the other complementary character she’d be dancing as and pressing to continue as well.
The screen buffered, and then the opening chords of the guitar strummed, and right off the bat their hands were touching, palms flat together and arms flexing upward, and they walked slow circles around each other, and then the circle melted into a different position, and Barbie slowed to a stand, and Gloria was settling in front of her, and they were almost flush together, Barbie’s front to Gloria’s back, and their hands, still touching, went down from mid-air, Barbie’s palm opening to hold Gloria’s hand and fingers softly, politely, her other hand coming up to Gloria’s hip, and oh, those little touches weren’t part of the choreography at all.
Quickly the dance called for them to break apart, providing more solo moves for each of them. They mirrored it all as best as they could, giggling at how silly they must have looked, but not really caring and instead just enjoying how much fun they were having.
“Sasha told me she trusts me today.” Barbie blurted. It had been on her mind ever since it happened, and she was eager to share it with Gloria. “She even hugged me.”
“She did?” Gloria cast a quick look at Barbie, feeling elated. “Honey, that’s great! She doesn’t ever hug me,” she grumbled, not entirely serious.
Barbie giggled. “Yeah, she did… It was very nice. I know you always say that she likes me, even if it doesn’t always show, but… I don’t know. Today felt like it was really, really true.” Like she had finally gotten the proof and confirmation she needed. “I think she really does like me…” Barbie trailed off, biting on her lip to hide the giant smile on her face.
“Of course she likes you,” Gloria corroborated, as the music reached its final crescendo and began winding down. “I mean, what’s not to like?” Her voice contained that little intonation that let Barbie know she was being flirtatious, teasing her. And the blonde’s heart skipped a beat, her breath almost catching.
Especially because the song’s final chants of ‘Bailando, amor’ chorused and they fell into that position again, Barbie standing behind Gloria, holding her close with one hand on her hip, the other holding Gloria’s hand in her own. And then she prompted Gloria to twirl, once, beautiful under Barbie’s hand, and then the final position had Barbie dip Gloria back, arm around Gloria’s waist, Gloria’s hand splaying on the side of Barbie’s face, and the song ended.
For a moment, everything lingered. The game screen flashed and buzzed for a second before displaying their score and going quiet, waiting silently for them to accept. There was a kind of breathlessness from their exertion, swelling and shrinking in their chests. Their breathing, already in the form of panting as they fumbled along the outskirts of a thrilling comedown, skipped, trembled; it weighed heavy on them, this tension that existed, palpable always, and tangible now. Inevitable.
Barbie’s stomach fluttered as the pads of Gloria’s fingers traced tiny shapes into her cheek. Gloria’s pretty brown eyes glittered, and Barbie saw years of human life reflected in them; every love, every memory, every event and every moment, passing through them, borne out of the irrevocable component of what it meant to be human: to feel so deeply and with such complexity. Barbie saw all of this. Understood all of this. And she knew that she would experience a lifetime of these things of her own, of love and of heartbreak, of happy and of sad days, of crushing pain and of exhilarating hope. There was so much to be seen, so much to be felt, to be explored. And Barbie didn’t know how she’d be able to do it all, but she knew that she wanted Gloria there with her. Every time, forever.
Barbie held Gloria, still, their eyes on each other, and then Gloria’s gaze flitted down, just for a second, to Barbie’s lips, and Barbie felt her heart nearly implode, and she was not okay. But really she had never been better, because the way Gloria was looking at her made a strained sense of intense longing erupt in Barbie’s belly, created this frantic pull that tempted and pushed her to do something, to finally act on her feelings. She wanted Gloria to always look at her this way. And perhaps it was entirely selfish, and blindly fueled by Barbie’s desperate need for wish-fulfillment, but she thought Gloria looked the most beautiful she ever had, right now, when she was looking at Barbie like this; seeming to want her, in the same way Barbie wanted Gloria.
And another mental note scrawled itself sloppily across Barbie’s brain, and then she faltered as the thought occurred, because really, could she keep writing Gloria this and Gloria that? Was that fair? And maybe she needed to regroup, re-strategize, and just change—
“My list,” Barbie murmured softly, not even entirely aware of how her thoughts had translated into real life.
Gloria’s head tilted curiously, eyebrows pinching together. “What?” Her reaction brought Barbie out of it, and the blonde blinked herself back to present time.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, shaking her head to focus. “I-... there’s a list I have… of prettiest things I’ve seen in the Real World. A lot of them have to do with you.” She admitted. “I was just thinking that maybe I need to start over, and rework it to be Pretty things in the Real World , and not prettiest , because that one will always be you.”
A flicker of sentiment jumped to life in Gloria’s stomach at the statement, rippled about and ricocheted everywhere, stirring all those feelings in its wake; Barbie always said these things so easily, so securely, like it was the undying truth and nothing could ever change it. She had a way of making Gloria feel like she was young again, obsessive and exhilarating in her endeavors with her crush. Her crush. She was pushing forty years old with a crush. She felt so silly at the fact, but so giddy.
And it was all because of Barbie.
Accepting that young love also included those electrifying moments of risk that really communicated all the underlying desire, Gloria leaned forward and kissed Barbie.
Barbie’s eyes fluttered shut; Gloria’s lips were so soft on her own, and the stickiness of Barbie’s lip gloss made a faint sound as she tilted her head and deepened it. Her head felt like it did when she had tried wine for the first time, spinning and dazed, pleasantly dizzy and almost addictive in nature. She thought she could stay here kissing Gloria forever.
Her hand on Gloria’s hip tightened, knuckles flexing to bunch up the material of Gloria’s clothing.
“HELLO!” They jumped apart at the sound of Sasha’s voice, their faces scarlet.
Sasha crossed her arms. “Look, I’m glad you two finally figured it out and everything, but please don’t make out where I can see you.” She shuddered. “Seriously gross.”
Barbie shared an embarrassed look with Gloria, smiling apologetically at Sasha and awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.
“Consider it retaliation for the stunt you pulled today with Barbie and the term MILF,” Gloria gave her daughter a pointed look.
Sasha rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she accepted. “I guess that’s fair.” Just then, the oven timer dinged. “Oh, finally. I’m starving,” she walked to the dining room table, as Barbie and Gloria undid the clasps of the Wii remotes on their wrists and tossed them aside.
“Time for dinner,” Gloria said sweetly.
Barbie smiled as Gloria grabbed her hand and dragged her to the kitchen.