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Although she was sure that the response hadn't been genuine, Tatum didn't dare to push any further. Bringing it up at all had been a challenge for her, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't silently glad that Frankie hadn't broken down or something. She didn't know how to deal with emotional girls, at least not reliably so. Even if she was a girl herself, she had always felt so different from them, relating had never come easy, and clues to their mystery never failed to elude her. Frankie was different too, and it didn't surprise Tatum that her girlfriend didn't unload onto her. It just wasn't, usually anyway, her style. She was much more of a brooder, like Tatum herself, whom often had to have her problems dragged out of her after days of pestering.
She was equally silent for the rest of their walk back to the dorms, following close behind Frankie. When they stopped at her dormitory door, she briefly rested her hand on the brunette's back as she waited for her to open the door and let them in, before obediently following her inside when the door was left open in her wake.
While Frankie went to the record player, Tatum gingerly removed her sneakers, pushing them aside with a foot so that Rowan wouldn't trip on them if she entered the room later on. She glanced over at Frankie on the floor as the music began to play, and the other girl apologized. Her lips quirked into a half-hearted smile, her head shaking, as she walked over and gently sat down beside her.
Acting without hesitation, something quite rare for Tatum, the blonde girl pulled the other girl against her, her thin arms looping gently around Frankie's shoulders. Soft displays of affection that Tatum hardly ever showed around others, just shared between them in moments like these. "It's okay, I'm not mad," she muttered, pressing her lips softly to her girlfriend's temple. "I'm just sorry that your night wasn't better," she added.
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Tatum felt an uncharacteristic protective flare up, her arms tightening a little around Frankie. She wouldn't ever be able to deny the little flicker of jealousy that clenched in her stomach every time that she thought about Frankie and Gray, and this instance was no different.
She followed along closely as Frankie rambled on in French, catching most of it, and enough otherwise to piece together the gist of her girlfriend's anger at her friend. "Forgot about him, he's just being a drunk asshole. You shouldn't have to worry about him. He's got his own girlfriend, doesn't he? Where is she during all of this?" she murmured, her eyes closing for a moment, and head resting against Frankie's gently. "What did he do to embarrass you?" she added quietly, trailing off a bit.
If there was anything she could relate to, it was a hatred of being embarrassed. And even knowing she was powerless to do it, she wanted to tell Gray exactly what she thought of him messing with her girlfriend. She might never gather the courage, but all of the words were just on the tip of her tongue, and they were venomous.
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Tatum could imagine, although she quickly found that she would rather not; it showed in the way her face faltered, blanching a little as she shook her head. "Yeah, I guess so," she murmured finally, backing off a bit as Frankie straightened up. At least she was seeming a little better, which was a plus.
"Just don't stress about him," she said quietly, shifting a bit to get more comfortable, unfolding her legs from where they had been beneath her. "Unless you like.. want to or whatever, you know. I'm like, not your boss or something," she quickly added, looking to the brunette with a soft expression.
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Tatum smiled as Frankie took her hand, inclining her head a bit more to look back over at the brunette as she spoke. She couldn't deny her heart fluttering more than just a little, as she squeezed her girlfriend's hand in response to her words. "I know, I'm just being a tool, don't mind me," she murmured. "I know the last thing you need is like.. stress, I shouldn't worry about stupid shit, and just enjoy us," she added, reaching up with her free hand to tuck some hair behind her ear.
She smiled a bit wider when Frankie comment about Gray, nodding in agreement. "You're probably right."
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She laughed a little at the faux accent, rolling her eyes again, and getting more comfortable as the brunette began to sing. Tatum was an attentive and polite audience, always feeling rather honored that anyone would play for her, but Frankie especially. And her voice really was quite beautiful.
When the song ended, she straightened up some, scooting a little closer, a grin on her lips. "Vous êtes incroyable," she whispered, her French rather awkward as usual, but getting her point across no less, leaning in to press her lips up to the brunette's.
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Although she tried to keep her room at school fairly clean, her room at home was never quite as tidy, and mess had just become something to live with. Frankie's endless absent-minded clutter never seemed to bother her even a bit. As Frankie threw the discarded clothing to the floor, Tatum reached over and grabbed one of her own shirts from the pile, just a plain white tanktop. "I'm gunna change into this, if you don't care? I'm kind of suffocating in this thing," she stated, motioning to her dress.
She stood from her position on the floor, and turned her back, lifting her hair up to expose the zipper on the back of her. "I've learned that girlfriends would never peek without permission. Now unzip me," she joked.
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