Tatum barely even flinched when Mack called her babe again, just exhaling heavily against the blonde's neck, eyes still closed. The hug felt nice, and she was limp to it, just wanting to be held and comforted. She didn't know how their roles had switched back to normal again, but this felt much more natural. She was supposed to be the weak one, and Mack would keep her strong. The redhead had been a fool to think it could be any other way. "Okay, I guess I-I'm like.. not that stupid. But the gay thing isn't exactly like, fireworks and confetti in my family," she muttered sullenly.

The hand rubbing over her back calmed her down significantly, and she relaxed even more into the arms around her body. "You'd smuggle me into your house?" she asked curiously, chin resting onto the blonde's shoulder as she spoke. Mack's house was an extravagant jump from the modest home that her own family lived in. It might be nice to wake and bake poolside. If her parents kicked her out, at least her whole existence wouldn't have to be pathetic. There would still be weed and the gated community in upstate New York to look forward to. And Kia was a generally a nicer sister than Sera had ever been on any given day. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad," she relented. It was still scary to think about coming out to her parents, but it was good to know she wouldn't be entirely homeless or something. Shit like that happened all of the time to people.

She knew if push came to shove, Mack really would fight for her. She'd bring her home even if Kate did say 'no' to it, and Tatum knew she would get her way, probably with Kia's help. Mack really would probably go and try to reason with her father, if it ever came to that. It brought that ache into her chest again, the indecision tearing at her all over again. This was her best friend, and she didn't know why she was getting so sappy, except that she knew exactly why. That was the part that was the worst. She might have constantly shrugged off Mackenzie's advances as if they were poison, but there was no sense in denying her attachment to the girl. More so, her attraction to her.

The idea that Mack could feel anything for her, the way she claimed, still seemed like fiction. How could something like that be true? Girls like Mack didn't fall for people, and they certainly didn't fall for plain-jane little redheads with no social skills. Tatum had always admired Mackenzie, maybe even tried to learn by a few of her examples. Her affection for sunglasses had come from the girl at least. But before Frankie, she had admired Mackenzie in an entirely different way. That first year, that freshman year, she would have dropped dead to get the time of day from Mack.

Date after date, she was the friend, listening and scrunching up her face in all of the right parts of the story. Telling the other girl she was gross became habit during this time. Never, back then, could she ever imagine them where they were now. When they had grown up? When had Mack decided she was this amazing saint of a person? Most of all, when did she stop noticing all of the amazing things about her own best friend? How did she let things get so messed up? Things were a mess, and knowing what she wanted seemed like a lengthy task.

Tatum was pulled out of her reverie when Mack admitted to throwing the fight, as if Tatum didn't already realize that. She cracked a wide smile and gave the front of the blonde girl's hoodie a little yank. "You fucking jerk off," she chided, although the praise felt nice. It wasn't like a move she pulled in a fist fight was something she got complimented on often. "I fuckin' showed you.. but I learn from the best, right?" she joked, reaching her hand up to brush across the cheek she had gone after in the fight. She hadn't noticed a bruise in the darkness, but if there was even a hint of one in the morning, she would heal it. Whether Mackenzie wanted her to or not, it was as irrelevent as ever.