"Why you gotta buck up to the guards?" Taystee demanded as she and Poussey loitered in their old hang spot in the library.
"I'm not. I just think it's fucked up that they always come after us."
"They specialize in 'fucked up.' It's their job. And you and me gotta deal. That's our job."
"We don't have to like it."
"You don't have to show off either. It's not gonna do nothing but land you right in the SHU."
From the corner of her eye, Taystee watched the last inmate exit the library, leaving them alone. Now she could breathe.
Taystee thought she was ready. When she and Poussey had their come-to-Jesus moment in the storm, she'd turned herself loose in a way that was permanent. It was real and there was no turning back.
Still, she was never free from the nagging feeling that everybody knew her business. She didn't expect to get so much attention in a prison full of dyke broads, but instantly she felt eyes on her. The crew didn't look at her the same. Black Cindy didn't want to talk about Denzel the way they used to. And she swore she heard whispering behind her back.
The feeling was so uncomfortable that when she crossed paths with Poussey in the hallway, lingering close enough for their hands to almost touch, Taystee couldn't handle it. She quickly pushed Poussey into an empty stairwell and kissed her hard on the mouth.
"What was that for?" Poussey's confusion was blotted out by a grin she couldn't hide.
Taystee shook her head, pissed at herself.
This is how all of their kisses would be from now on - stolen.
After that, she and Poussey christened every private corner of the prison with stolen moments. It became like a game trying to find a new spot to sneak away to. Poussey seemed to love leaning in close to whisper some joke or heartfelt revelation behind closed doors. She must have thought they were sharing a special secret. She didn't get that she herself was the secret.