Chapter Text
Eloise
There were many things Eloise expected on a Friday evening. The sound of her neighbour drunk in the hallway kissing some guy, her doorbell announcing her weekly takeout, or perhaps the sound of a violin that wafted through the walls from her other neighbour’s home.
She certainly did not expect to open the door to Cressida Cowper. They had not spoken since a falling out in college, after an oddly intense friendship, and now the girl was standing on her doorstep with her arms folded.
“I have a proposition.”
She shouldered past her then, and Eloise added, “By all means, do come in.” Staring at her incredulously, she said, “How might I help you? Wait, actually, how do you know where I live?”
“I asked Francesca. I told her I needed to drop off a book to you.”
“So you lied and pried at my siblings for information?”
“You have no social media, Eloise. You’re like some non-existent ghost.”
“I have Instagram, but I rarely use it.” Mostly Eloise used it to post pictures of Kermit the Frog edited in a rather unhinged manner.
“Oh,” Cressida paused. “Well, I am here now. Do you wish to listen?”
“You want to simply sweep all our past differences under the rug?”
“No. I still remember them,” Cressida replied. “I remember you telling me not to bother with Alfred, only to set him up with your sister.”
“It didn’t work out between them, and I was trying to help you. You didn’t want to marry anyone! Many times you told me you were not yet ready to be chained down.” That and Eloise may have been a bit jealous he was spending so much time with her best friend…
“But my parents did!” Cressida yelled back.
“Yes, your parents Cressida. Are you still signing your soul away to them? Doting after their every last request like some perfectly behaved prize-winning b-” Cressida shoved Eloise hard. Luckily there was a sofa behind her, and Eloise landed with a “Hmph.” She stared at her with wide eyes. “Did you just push me?”
“You were being an ass! And yes, I realise I have let them walk over me for years on end and I am tired. I am exhausted and I am done listening to them.”
“You’re what?” Eloise asked as her brain froze because she had never expected to hear that. This was always their main issue: Cressida never wanted to let her parents down. It made her act questionably and often left Eloise exasperated. They had met in high school and even then Cressida had been tightly wound.
“I am done!” Cressida snapped. “But they will not listen to me, they laughed at me when I came out as a lesbian and said I needed to grow up and not be a- a-” Cressida shut her mouth like she did not wish to repeat what else he had said. “They laughed like it was some disgusting joke and-”
“You’re a lesbian,” Eloise repeated, digesting the words with disbelief.
“Yes,” Cressida said, working her jaw.
Eloise knew she did that when she was trying to fight tears so she stood and against her better judgment said, “Would you like a cup of tea? You look a breath away from death.”
“I haven’t slept much this week.”
“It shows,” Eloise teased lightly though the bags under her eyes were concerning. “Same as before?”
“You still have it?” Cressida asked.
So Eloise moved to the kitchen and pulled out a box of gingerbread tea that the small tea store in her parents’ town made. It was always Cressida’s favourite, and even after they stopped talking Eloise continued to buy it.
She liked opening the cupboard and being reminded of warmer times, some of the happiest ones she had. Gingerbread tea reminded her of Cressida curled up on her sofa after a fight with her parents as the pair watched trashy television. It reminded her of rubbing her feet as Cressida fought back tears, and of Eloise ranting about her siblings.
“Yes, would you like some?”
“Please.”
Eloise steeped the gingerbread tea in boiling water and let it sit for a few minutes before adding some cold so that it wouldn’t scold her. Silently she slid it along the table, watching as Cressida sipped on it.
“Are you okay?” Eloise finally asked. “That couldn’t have been easy.” She still remembered Cressida sleeping over at her house for four days when she was sixteen after failing a test; fearing the repercussions of having to tell her father.
“It wasn’t but I feel better for it. Or at least, I hope I will with time.” Cressida drummed her nails against the mug. “They were not happy and chose to mock it. Make it into some kind of obscure joke. When I clarified it was not my father decided to haul several slurs at me and told me to return with a nice man on my arm.”
“Would you like me to kick him in the dick?” She could likely play it off as an accident at a formal gathering; Eloise was incredibly clumsy.
“No, but I would like your help.”
“With what?” Eloise asked.
“They can’t stand you,” Cressida said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry, but as soon as they found out that you were gay in college my parents hated you. Even before that, they told me endlessly what a bad example you were to be around. Plus, you’re a Bridgerton and my parents despise those wealthier than themselves.”
Eloise let her annoyance rest because if that was why they hated her she knew it likely only made it harder for Cressida to come out to them. “What help do you need?”
“I wanted to cut them out but even that they seemed to find a joke,” Cressida said. “And they had a point. We all attend the same events and have the same social circle so it would be hard to cut them out entirely. I thought…”
“Thought what?”
“That I need to show them I am not joking. But also, I wish to irk them so much that they no longer wish to talk to me. I can’t cut them out, but I might silence them at gatherings at least.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Eloise asked.
“I want to date you,” Cressida said. Then when Eloise spat her tea out, she added, “Fake dating, of course. It would anger them beyond belief seeing me with you.”
“Why do you think that I am single?” Eloise asked.
“You never dated in college or high school. At least not while we were friends,” Cressida said. “You always spoke of your disgust of commitment. And I am still friends with your mother on Instagram and you didn’t have anyone beside you in any of the photos other than people I knew.”
And okay, perhaps she had a point. Eloise had slept with women often, but she never felt a pull to someone long-term.
“Fair point. And what do I get out of this?” But then Eloise realised exactly what she got out of this. “Yes,” she added suddenly before Cressida could reply. “I will do it.”
“Why the change of heart?” Cressida asked.
“Penelope detests you and we recently fell out. This will drive her mad.”
“You fell out with Penelope?” Cressida asked, frowning.
It was understandable confusion; Eloise and Penelope had been friends since they were toddlers. She and Cressida never got on, so Eloise kept her two friends separate.
“She’s engaged to Colin,” Eloise said.
Now it was Cressida who spat her tea out, choking as it went down the wrong way. “I’m fine. You caught me off guard with that. Penelope and Colin? As in your brother Colin? The man who never in his life went on a second date?”
“Yes, Penelope and Colin. Neither of them thought to tell me. Instead, they snuck around for two years until a ring appeared on her goddamned finger.”
“That is… incredibly shitty of them.”
Eloise looked up in shock. “Did Cressida Cowper just swear?”
“I can swear.”
“Say fuck,” Eloise tried.
“No.”
“Cressida-”
“No!”
“Cressida,” Eloise groaned. “It will feel so good, just do it for me.”
Cressida’s cheeks were bright pink as she said, “No. Now back to the subject at hand.”
“Fine,” Eloise lamented. “One day I will have you swearing like a sailor.”
“You can but dream,” Cressida replied. “Perhaps we should talk about rules and boundaries if we do this.”
“You mean to say you do not want my tongue in your mouth?” Eloise teased.
“Rule number one, no tongue.”
“Ugh, you’re killing me here,” Eloise groaned. “Just imagine your parent’s faces if I did that.”
“I can, and I would be peering down at both of them in a casket.”
“Fine,” Eloise continued. “Rule number two, we attend equal events for one another.”
“That seems acceptable,” Cressida replied, jotting it down on Eloise’s memo pad. “Rule number three-” She paused then, ink bleeding into the paper from the force she held the pen with. “No fondling.”
“As if I am going to suddenly manhandle your breasts,” Eloise scoffed, causing Cressida’s face to heat. “Rule four, we do not talk about our past issues. If we are doing this, we cannot bicker the whole time lest one of us go insane.”
Cressida nodded and added it to the list. “Is kissing and handholding fine with you?”
Suddenly Eloise’s throat felt rather dry. “I assume we will need to if we wish to truly piss your parents off and convince them. I am fine with both.”
“No smoking in my apartment,” Cressida said.
“How do you know I-”
Cressida lifted the pack of Marlboro’s on the counter.
“Fuck, fine.” Eloise rolled her eyes. “We need to clarify pet names.”
“Pet names?”
“Like if I was to call you baby would you be okay with it, or would it trigger a violent bout of sickness in you?”
“I-” Cressida cleared her throat. “Would be okay with that. I would like to call you something too.”
“Petulant?” Eloise teased.
“I thought one rule was that we do not discuss our past fights,” Cressida said under her breath.
“I was joking. And you were not wrong when you said that,” Eloise admitted.
When Cressida looked up there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Is that everything?”
“That I can think of.”
With a nod, Cressida turned the rules to face Eloise. “So, we’re doing this?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’m going to change my Facebook status,” Cressida announced.
Eloise was wholly unprepared for just how quickly that would change things. Five minutes later her phone dinged. Then dinged again. Then several times more.
“Daphne?” Cressida asked.
Clearly, she had found the status.
Daphne: You’re dating her?
Daphne: Cressida Cara Cowper?
Daphne: When in the sweet lord did this occur? You refer to her as the she-devil, Eloise. Ever since your fight you have hated one another.
“The she-devil,” Cressida said, looking over her shoulder.
Eloise stood and moved away out of view. “I was joking obviously.”
Benedict: Eloise also calls her CCC. She said it stood not for her name but Crazy Coo-Coo Cunt.
Oh god, it was on the sibling group chat.
It was probably best that Cressida didn’t see that one. Eloise snorted; that nickname she would sorely miss using.
Francesca: Why are you dating the girl you have loathed for years?
Anthony: Perhaps she is great in bed. Cressida was a dancer in high school.
Daphne: Do not ever say that again. The last thing I need to think of is my sister and Cressida in bed.
“How bad is it?” Cressida asked.
Benedict: Hopefully Cressida is less competitive between the sheets than she is at social events.
Francesca: Or perhaps Eloise is into that.
“They are currently discussing our sex life.”
“Oh,” Cressida said, cheeks flushing.
“Benedict fears you would be incredibly competitive between the sheets.”
It was then that Cressida took the phone from Eloise, and Eloise’s eyes widened. “Cressida, do not-”
Eloise: I will have you know Cressida is great in bed, spectacular, and that I have met God after having made love to her.
Daphne: What on earth…
Francesca: Well, that was poetic.
Eloise: Jesus. That was Cressida. Who read some of your messages so can you please stop discussing my sex life on the group chat?
“I would be competitive,” Cressida said. “Just in case that ever comes up. I would ensure my lover… came.”
“Cressida…”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever had sex with a woman?” Eloise asked.
She floundered for a moment but eventually, Cressida said, “No.”
“Rule number one of lesbian sex, we do not stop at one orgasm.”
“You do not?” Cressida asked.
“No. Normally I aim for four. Sometimes more. Depends on how many hours I have to kill in the day.”
“Oh. You have had four before? In one day?”
Eloise smiled. “Do you want my records for myself or my lovers?”
“Both.”
“Five for me, but I gave twelve to a girl I had a brief thing with. We spent the Saturday really getting to know one another.”
“Twelve?” Cressida echoed, shocked.
“I am truly gifted with a strap,” Eloise said with a shrug.
“Still as humble as ever I see,” Cressida added after a moment of silence.
Eloise beamed at her. “Now, how long have we been together and how did we meet?”
“A month, perhaps? That way we do not need too much of a backstory. We could have run into one another at a café. Mutual turf where we were unable to argue.”
“That could work,” Eloise said, jotting it down. “Have we had sex?”
“Yes.” Cressida averted her eyes.
Eloise’s phone buzzed again, this time with apologies directed to Cressida from all her siblings. She turned it to face her.
“I never thought I would see the day where I was apologised to by a Bridgerton,” she joked.
Eloise turned her phone back and locked it. “Miracles happen.”