“How does none of this bug you?” I ask.
Connor shrugs. “It bugs me, but what am I going to do about it? I got enough people in my life who care about me that I don’t need to care about what a few idiots think.”
I nod, but I still can’t feel the same way. The attack, harmless as it was, scared me. What if they had decided to do something more harmful? Our school’s too small town to worry about metal detectors or anything like that, and God knows half the kids in school could get their hands on a gun if they wanted. I haven’t exactly been loving school so far this year, but for the first time I don’t feel safe there.
“I got my ass handed to me in sixth grade because some boys a grade above me figured out I was gay. One of them wrote me a love note and I was stupid enough to believe it. After that, I transferred schools and became this.” Connor motions to himself. “I stopped having much to do with school and joined a couple regional groups for queer kids. People in school didn’t want to know who I was, so I never told them. That’s how I deal.”
“It’s shitty.” I sink to the curb, tired of standing around. Connor nods and sits beside me. He’s a little guy, but as I’ve gotten to know him I realize he’s probably got more self-confidence than I have in my pinky finger. “Well, it’s better now that Lily started the Queer Alliance. I got friends in school again.”
“And a boyfriend?” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Tell me about him.”
Connor’s slow smile lights up his face. He pushes back his hood and pulls off his cap to scratch his head, messing up his dark hair. “Ryan. He’s fifteen, dark curly hair, home schooled.”
“Sounds cute.”
“Very.” Once again that smile catches me off guard. I want to ask him more, but just then Zia pulls up.
As I stand, she gets out of the car, leaning on the roof as she looks us over. “What the hell happened to you two?”
“Long story.” I roll my eyes. Connor pushes himself to his feet. “I take it this is your mystery ride?”
“Yeah. You sure you’re okay?”
He nods. “Dad will be here soon.” As he says it, a worn-down pickup truck enters the far end of the parking lot. “There he is now.”
“See you tomorrow.” Connor nods and I hurry to spread out the trash bag over Zia’s front seat. We pull away just as Connor’s dad comes to a stop behind us.
*
Back at her apartment, she gives me a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with “Serenity Valley” written across the front like a camp shirt. I bag my ruined clothes up and throw them in her trash. She pours us glasses of sangria and we curl up on the couch so I can explain. She’s having a second glass before I’m even half done with mine.
“So you think it was Carmen?”
“I know it was Carmen. I was best friends with her for years. I know her voice even when she’s trying to hide it.” I shake my head and look down at my glass. “I never expected her to do anything like this.”
“Did the principal believe you?”
“I think so. He said he had enough to deal with this. Whatever that means. He seemed annoyed that he had to deal with it. Like we were the problem.”
“I’m sorry. People really suck sometimes.” Zia takes a long swallow from her glass.
“Want to slow down a little?” I ask with a smile. “I mean, it’s barely after noon.”
She shrugs. “I don’t work today, and you certainly deserve a drink after what you went through.” I nod and sip at the wine. It doesn’t taste as good today as it did before. Zia seems off to me, but I’m not sure why.
For a few minutes, we sit silently on the couch, music playing softly. Just when it begins to feel really awkward, Zia speaks.
“I thought you were mad at me, you know. Before you texted me today, I mean.”
“No, not mad.” I look at the glass of wine and decide to chug it if the conversation is heading in this direction. I swallow it in two large gulps and wipe the residue from my mouth with the back of my hand. “Just a little jealous, I guess.”
“Jealous?” Zia takes our glasses and refills them. The wine is making my head fuzzy. “Jealous of what?”
“Of you and Tyler.” I stare at the glass in my hands, unwilling to meet her eyes.
Again, that awful silence fills the room. I can just see her sipping her wine from the corner of my eye. She isn’t looking at me and I don’t think she could be looking sideways because her hair is blocking her vision. When she pushes her hair behind her ear, I look away.
“Molly?” Zia puts a hand on my bare arm. Her touch sends a tingle of excitement and fear through me.
“Yeah?”
“Do you like me?”
Chapter Eighteen
The words are soft and understanding and she hasn’t moved her hand, so I nod. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t move her hand either.
After a moment, I find my voice. “Do—” I stop and clear my throat, finally forcing myself to look at her. “Do you think you could ever like me? I mean, you know, like me like me?” I almost roll my eyes after saying it because it’s so clichéd.
She pulls her hand away and studies me carefully, her wide dark eyes somewhat glassy from the wine. Her lips are darker than usual and I know that’s from the wine as well. In the weeks we’ve known each other I swear I’ve memorized everything about her. She has a small scar just above her left eyebrow and another at the base of her left thumb. Her nails barely extend past her fingertips, but she always has a clear coat of polish on them. She always smells like vanilla and I want to bury my face in her soft hair.
I wonder, in that moment, if she is finally studying me as closely as I have her. Is she noticing that my earrings don’t match? Maybe she sees that there are flecks of green in my blue eyes. Maybe she’s already noticed that my hair smells like the coconut shampoo my mom buys.
When Zia opens her mouth to answer, I hold my breath. “I don’t know.”
I let out the breath. “Oh.” I take a sip of the wine and try to pretend I don’t feel like she just punched me.
“I never thought about it before I met you.” She leans forward, elbows on her knees as she talks to her glass of wine. “But from the moment I met you I felt this strange connection.”
My heart hammers at her words, and my skin tingles at the possibilities she is hinting at.
“When you told me you were gay, I thought maybe that was it.” She takes a sip of her wine. “I mean, like, maybe I felt the possibility because you liked girls.” She lets out a small laugh. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
I watch as she drains her glass and moves to get a refill. I set my glass on the table and follow her, catching her before she can fill her glass. When I put my hands on her hips, she pauses, one hand on the refrigerator handle. I hear her inhale sharply, but she doesn’t pull away.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is quiet, but strong.
“Trying to figure this out,” I say.
I know the wine is making me brave, but I need to know. She turns but doesn’t try to back away or go around me. Her eyes meet mine and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Cautiously, feeling like my whole world rests on this kiss, I lean in. She doesn’t pull away, and just before my lips meet hers, she tilts her head, closing the space between us.
A warm river of pleasure flows through my body. I’ve wanted this since I first saw her, but I didn’t actually expect it to happen. Somehow that makes it even better. I gently rest my hands on her hips again, and a burst of excitement fills me when I feel her arms snake up around my neck.
Just like that, I’m kissing Zia. The realization almost makes me fumble the kiss, and for a moment I worry that my sloppiness will make her pull away, but it doesn’t. She is into it, pressing tight to me and making me feel like all my dreams are going to come true. My head buzzes with endorphins.
When she breaks away, I feel a moment of panic that she’s come to her senses and realizes this isn’t what she wants and it was a
bad idea. Instead, she gives me a conspiratorial smile that I haven’t seen before. It feels all the more intimate because we are still standing so close.
“Damn, Molly. I never expected you to take charge like that.” Her voice is low and breathless and it makes me want to kiss her again.
So I do.
I feel her smiling against my lips as we kiss again. She wraps her hands in my T-shirt and backs up to the counter, tugging me with her. We stop kissing just long enough for her to lift herself to the counter and flip the light switch. The harsh artificial light of the fluorescent bulbs is replaced by cold-dampened sunlight that softens everything in the small apartment and makes her look like something out of a magazine. She wraps her legs around me and tugs me closer.
I taste wine in our kiss and smell vanilla, and I tuck both sensations away to remember later. I feel so light-headed I’m afraid I might fall over, which would really ruin the moment. I grip her back tighter and she scoots to the edge of the counter, pressing closer to me. It’s by far the hottest experience of my life.
“God, what are we doing?” Zia leans her forehead against mine. “What the hell are we doing?”
“I don’t know.” I stretch up and begin kissing her throat. Her feet dig into my legs, but I can’t get any closer. “What do you want us to be doing?” I ask against her neck.
“I don’t know.”
Her hands wrap in my hair and she tugs my face from her neck so she can kiss me again. My fingertips brush under the hem of her shirt and she doesn’t push them away. Just when I start to think I might be brave enough to push my hands under her shirt, there’s a knock on the door.
We pull apart like the knock was a warning shot. Zia flips on the light and hops down from the counter, wiping her mouth and straightening her shirt. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to look like I wasn’t just hard-core making out. I sink to the couch, hoping I’m not blushing.
“Just a second,” Zia calls as she grabs a bottle of body spray from the counter and spritzes herself. A wash of vanilla fills the room, so intense I want to run to her again. Our eyes meet. She gives me a small smile and opens the door.
“Hey, babe.” Tyler strides in, pausing to kiss her on the cheek. My stomach drops and I thank God there isn’t a window in the door or anywhere on that side of the apartment that he could have looked through. Still, I can’t help feeling like we just got caught.
“Hey.” Zia closes the door. Tyler spots me and waves. “Hey, Molly. What are you doing out of school?”
“Early dismissal,” I answer, because it’s easier than explaining.
“What are you doing here?” Zia asks. She grabs her wine and Tyler frowns.
“A little early to be drinking, isn’t it?” he asks. Zia just rolls her eyes and Tyler doesn’t press it. “We’re supposed to be going to a movie? Did you forget?”
“Oh crap. I totally did.”
“It’s okay, we have plenty of time. Do you need to change?”
“Nope, I’m good. Do we have time to drop off Molly?”
“Not a problem.” Tyler smiles at me, and I feel like the biggest asshole in the world.
Chapter Nineteen
I flop on my bed, glad that no one else is home so I can replay every moment at Zia’s house in extreme detail. I also pop a piece of gum in my mouth to cover the scent of wine on my breath. It still feels like a dream. As much as I thought about what kissing Zia would be like, I never expected it to happen.
Just thinking about the way she wrapped her legs around me and pulled me close sends sparks through me and makes me wish I was still there. I think about Tyler showing up but push the thought away because it adds a layer of evil reality to the whole thing that I don’t want to deal with. When my phone vibrates, I scramble to get it.
Zia: Hey so sorry I had to go.
Zia: That was unexpected.
Zia: Are we okay?
Are we okay? We are a million miles past okay. We are in the outer orbit of awesome. At least I think we are. What if she doesn’t?
Me: It’s okay. I think we’re okay? Do you?
Zia: Very okay =)
Me: Did you tell Tyler?
Zia: No way! We are at the movies. He’s getting snacks
Zia: He can’t know about it. Our secret?
Me: Sure.
Zia: Thanks. Talk to you later.
I drop my phone on the bed and let out a long sigh. I think about Lily’s expression when I told her we could be a secret. No wonder she looked so sad. I’m not quite sure this is going where I want it to.
*
At some point I doze off, waking to the sound of the door downstairs slamming shut. I sit up, blinking and rubbing my eyes. Just a hint of sun lingers outside and I look at my phone to see it’s almost five. I hear the familiar thuds of Luke taking the stairs two at a time and then his bedroom door shutting.
I’m just dragging myself over to my desk when he appears in my doorway wearing clean jeans and a faded red hoodie. He’s wearing one white sock and one blue sock.
“Nice shirt, did your girlfriend let you borrow it?” He leans on the doorjamb, arms crossed and an annoying smirk on his face.
“Yes.” I flush, and Luke’s eyes widen.
“Did something actually happen with you and her?” I don’t answer, but that’s as good as admitting it to him. “Holy crap, you hooked up with her? I don’t know if I should high-five you or hate you.” He moves to sit on my bed and I spin in the desk chair.
“We didn’t hook up, we only kissed.” A lot. “Besides, why would you hate me? You have a girlfriend, remember?”
“A girlfriend whose best friend is totally into you, unless you’ve forgotten Lily? The totally sweet and hot girl who has a huge crush on you.”
“How do you know that?” I’m sure my face is turning even more red.
“Lily told Maria and Maria told me.” Luke shrugs and picks up my phone. I get up and grab it from him before he can start playing with it. He grins and lies back on my pillow. “So, was Zia worth it?”
“Worth what?”
“Bailing on a hot girl your own age? One who actually wants to be your girlfriend.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Luke sighs. “I thought Zia had a boyfriend?”
“She does.” I sit back down on the chair, tucking my legs under me.
“And where was he when all this was going on?” Luke holds up a hand as I start to answer. “If he was involved, please don’t tell me.”
I pick up a plastic tape dispenser and throw it at him. “Gross. No, he wasn’t involved, but he did show up and almost catch us.”
“You better be careful. Guys say they like the idea of girl-on-girl action, but I have a feeling if one of those girls is a real lesbian and the other one is your girlfriend, you might not be so happy. I wouldn’t want to catch Maria sucking face with Lily.” Even as he says it, I can tell he’s a little into the idea and almost gag.
“He won’t find out.” I hope that’s the truth. I also hope Zia will break up with him and we can have a real relationship. I try not to think too hard about the odds of that happening.
The door opens and closes downstairs, and Mom calls up the stairs.
“Molly? Luke? Are you two home?”
“Yeah.” I call back.
“Come help with the groceries. We need to talk.” We listen as her heels click toward the kitchen.
“Principal Garrison called her?” Luke asks, wincing.
“Definitely.” I nod.
Luke groans and I know the feeling. Mom isn’t going to take this well. We both know she can be more than a bit protective if she thinks either of us is threatened. Most of the time she’s one of the most laid-back moms I know, but the possibility of one of us getting hurt turns her into helicopter parent real quick.
We trudge down the stairs together, and once again I’m thankful to always have Luke at my side. I’m not sure I could sit through what is coming on my own. We grab the rest of the g
roceries from her car and head for the kitchen.
“Your principal called,” she says before we even set down the bags. “Someone attacked you?”
“Not really.” I begin emptying bags. Mom’s already moved on to throwing a casserole together. I toss a bag of tater tots to Luke.
“They threw water balloons full of paint at you. What else would you call it?” Mom snatches the package of hamburger from me and sets it on the counter where she is working.
“A really bad joke?” Luke says and I glance his way, smirking. I wouldn’t have dared say it, but I love that he did.
Mom is angry cooking now. She dumps rice into the bowl followed by corn and tomato sauce. She’s still wearing her work clothes, and her quick movements leave me envisioning tomato sauce across her white shirt.
“This isn’t a joke, Luke. These kids acted in a malicious and pointed manner, and I have half a mind to press charges against them and the school.”
“Mom.” I groan as I put away the canned goods. “Don’t do that. They don’t even know for sure who did it.” But I did.
“Oh yes, they do.”
I glance at Luke, but he only shrugs. This is news to him too apparently. “Who was it?”
“Carmen, for one.”
“What?” I fumble a can of black olives and it bounces off the counter to the floor. “For sure?”
“Principal Garrison searched her locker after speaking with everyone and found paint-covered clothes. When he spoke to her, she admitted to it. Apparently it was her, Isaac Harding, and some kid named Jay Thompson.”
“That bitch.” I slam a can onto the shelf. Mom slams the casserole into the oven. If I wasn’t so angry, our similarities would be amusing. “We knew it was her and Isaac, but I was still hoping we were wrong.”
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