Style

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “You okay?” I asked, touching her arm when we went to get sodas at halftime.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, totally unconvincing.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been distracted. What’s up with you?” I turned her to face me and she wouldn’t look at me. Yup, something was definitely bothering her.

  “It’s my parents. They’re being stupid about college. They want me to get a ‘sensible’ degree.” She used her fingers to put air quotes around sensible.

  “And what does that mean?” She sighed and rubbed her hand through her hair.

  “I don’t know, business or something? Pre-law? Pre-med? Anything with the word ‘pre’ in it? Not art or music or anything like that. And don’t even get them started on journalism or graphic design.” Now this, I could relate to.

  “You’ve met my parents, right? They’re going to flip their shit if I don’t get a PhD in something fancy and have a six-figure starting salary.” Not because they wanted me to be rich, but because they wanted me to be secure. Their word, not mine. I had no idea what the hell I wanted to do, and that was a serious problem for them.

  “Yeah, I know. It just sucks when I think they’re going to let me do what I want, but then lay down the hammer. They’re saying that they’ll only pay for school if I major in something they approve.” Well. That sucked. My parents didn’t have a whole lot of money to send me to college, so I was going to have to rely on a lot of scholarships, which was one of the reasons I took so many AP classes and had taken the SATs four times to get a good enough score to qualify for more than a few. I was going to be spending a hell of a lot of time writing essays and so forth after I applied. Just my idea of a good time.

  “Hey, you still have a lot of time. And do you honestly believe that they won’t support you financially if you become an artist? Please. You’re going to be amazing at whatever you do, Grace.” I slung my arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head against mine.

  “You always make things sound easier than they are, but I totally appreciate it,” she said.

  I heard a throat clear behind us and I turned to find Stella there, with one exquisite eyebrow raised.

  “Can I help you in some way?” I said, trying to sound as icy as she did.

  “No, you’re just holding up the line,” she fired back. I had no idea what she was talking about and then I realized Grace and I had been kinda holding up the line.

  “Sorry not sorry,” I fired at Stella and then moved to the counter to order.

  Stella definitely muttered something under her breath, but I didn’t quite catch it.

  “So I guess she hasn’t sweetened any,” Grace said as we walked back to the bleachers. Everyone else was deep in conversation about the upcoming Fall Formal, so I let myself be drawn into that conversation.

  “Are you going to ask someone?” Grace said, a weird look on her face.

  “No, why would I? I haven’t had a date to any of the other dances, why start now?” Our group always went together and I didn’t see a reason to mess with tradition.

  “No reason. But if there was someone you wanted to take, you could, you know.”

  “I know,” I said, slowly.

  “Okay,” she said, giving me one last look before turning to Paige and asking if she’d gotten her dress yet and if we should plan a shopping trip for the next weekend. I agreed, even though I had a perfectly cute dress already in my closet that I’d bought last summer. I needed a weekend that didn’t involve football, Stella, or my parents.

  I was twitchy on Saturday and Sunday, constantly checking my phone. I told myself it wasn’t because of Stella, but that was a huge lie. I didn’t know why I wanted her to text me, because it would probably be something mean anyway. There was no way I was going to text her anything. Not even if my house was on fire.

  Still, I typed out a few terrible messages and then deleted them. I cringed at myself and went back to watching re-runs of Buffy.

  “So, did you finish the edits I suggested?” Stella said to me on Monday. We’d nearly finished, but she still wasn’t satisfied. I was beginning to think that nothing ever satisfied Stella Lewis, but that wasn’t my problem.

  “I did, but I really don’t think that comma belongs there,” I said. We’d had a comma battle last week that had almost ended in bloodshed. I’d even gone so far as to look it up online and print out a few articles that proved I was right. I had them in my bag, ready to show her.

  But then she did something that had me so shocked I almost fell off my chair.

  “You’re right.”

  I sputtered for a second.

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that for the people in the back?” I said, cupping my hand to my ear.

  She rolled her eyes and then narrowed them.

  “You heard me. I’m not going to say it again, so drop it.” I couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of my mouth.

  “You don’t like being wrong, do you?” She looked back down at her notebook and turned a page of her notes.

  “It doesn’t happen very often. I’m nearly always right.”

  “Wow, you should really work on your self-esteem issues, Stella,” I said and she gave a little start when I used her name. I couldn’t seem to stop using it whenever I could. It was a pretty name for a pretty girl.

  “I can’t help it if I’m right. It just happens,” she said and I almost caught a smile.

  “What a hardship for you,” I said, but I realized that we were teasing each other. Holy shit, I was flirting with her.

  I was flirting with Stella and she was kinda flirting back.

  What the fuck was even happening?

  The moment died when she brushed her hair back and turned toward me.

  “Now. About the presentation.” We were back to business.

  Two days later I was at Stella’s house again and she was giving our presentation for an audience of one. Me.

  I was trying to keep my mind on what she was saying, but it was hard to focus on that because of the way her mouth moved when she talked. The tone of her voice. The way she stood. It was all . . . sexy. So sexy.

  Just a crush. A weird, out of the blue crush on a girl. Everyone had had one of those in their life, right? It didn’t mean I was . . . I mean, I still liked guys. I totally liked guys. I totally . . .

  Was staring at her boobs.

  I was just jealous of them. Mine weren’t shaped that nice. That was it. And her shirt was cute. I was not staring at her boobs, imagining what they would look like without the shirt.

  Nope. Not even a little bit.

  I dragged my eyes back up to her face and found her staring at me expectantly.

  “Well? How was it? And keep the editorial comments to a minimum.” Oh. She’d finished the presentation and I hadn’t even noticed. Because I’d been staring at her boobs.

  This was starting to be a serious problem. Thank God our presentation was on Monday and then we wouldn’t have time alone together anymore. I couldn’t handle it.

  “Uhhh, good. Really good,” I said, stumbling to come up with something, anything, to say. She sighed and threw up her hands, notecards scattering to the floor.

  “You weren’t even listening. I can’t believe this. You may not care about this class, but I do.” Now that made me mad.

  “I do care about this class, seeing as how I’ve been in it since the beginning of the year. Where the hell were you?” I got to my feet and then we were standing about a foot apart, both equally pissed.

  “That’s irrelevant. I’m in this class now and I don’t want to get a shitty grade because I’m stuck working with you.”

  I took a step forward and we were almost chest-to-chest.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry that it’s been so awful to work with me, you should have just gone to Mr. Hurley asked him to do the whole thing yourself. Oh wait, you pretty much did that anyway!”

  Our eyes are locked and I could feel that this was one of those intense moments where the world just stops
.

  We’re both breathing a little too hard for what happened and then Stella did something that shocked me more than if she would have pulled out a gun and shot me.

  She kissed me.

  I had no idea what made me do it. Maybe I was hormonal, or hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time, or maybe I had been poisoned during lunch and this was some side effect, but one minute she was standing in front of me yelling and the next I had pressed my mouth to hers.

  The contact lasted all of a half a second, because she pulled away so fast. I teetered on my toes and nearly lost my balance. I’d been leaning so far into her that I had to grab the back of a chair so I didn’t crash to the floor.

  “What the fuck, Stella?!” she said, putting her hands up and backing away. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said automatically. “I’m sorry.” I had no idea why I was apologizing. I mean, yeah, it probably wasn’t the best idea to kiss her, but I’d thought . . .

  No, that was impossible.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, my voice sounding robotic. She spun around in a circle while ripping the elastic viciously out of her hair. The brown semi-waves tumbled down to her shoulders and she was so cute. So, so cute.

  Cute and pissed, but that was a good look for her.

  “You just . . . You just kissed me,” she said, spinning around. “You just fucking kissed me. What the fuck?” She certainly liked to swear a lot when she was taken off-guard. But I thought her reaction was a little extreme for the situation. I mean, was me kissing her the worst thing that had ever happened to her?

  “I don’t know,” I said. That was the truth. I didn’t know. Well, I did. I knew that I thought she was adorable as hell and that I had wanted to kiss her for a while and that it had finally become too much and my body had sort of taken over, but other than that, I had no idea why I specifically liked her.

  Sure, there was the cute factor and she was smart and sexy and she could be funny when she wanted to, but she wasn’t . . . I mean she wasn’t, say, Natalie Dormer, who was hot as fuck. She was just Kyle.

  I licked my lips and tried to tell myself that I couldn’t taste her.

  “I have to go. I seriously have to go,” she said, grabbing her things and stumbling, dropping her copy of Jane Eyre in her haste to get out. Her limp slowed her down a little and I grabbed her arm, reaching down to get the book.

  “You don’t have to go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know what happened.” Oh, what a lie.

  “This is just . . . so, so fucked up. You’re seriously fucked up, Stella.” My insides clenched when she said my name. She wrenched her arm away from me.

  “Stay away from me.” I let her go because what else was I going to do? I couldn’t force her to stay and I wasn’t going to explain everything and I was still so messed up from the fact that I’d even done it that I just let her walk out the door.

  “How did studying go?” Dad asked an hour later when he came home. He’d been working a lot of extra hours at the college lately, but it made him happy, so I didn’t mind. Plus, it had been a blessing in disguise tonight. I didn’t know what I would have done if he’d walked in on me kissing Kyle.

  I choked on a piece of popcorn and had to chug some water before I could breathe again.

  “Fine. We, ah, practiced our presentation so I think we’re ready for Friday.” I knew my presentation was solid, but now I had this fear that I was going to mess it up due to what happened earlier.

  I wanted to groan and bury my head in the couch cushions. I’d definitely messed up and the embarrassment was now taking the place of shock from earlier.

  Oh. Hell.

  What if she told someone? Fear prickled my skin and my chest started feeling tight. What if she told someone? What if that someone told someone and then tomorrow everyone would know that Stella Lewis, Queen Bitch, was a dyke?

  I pulled out my phone and texted Kyle with shaking fingers.

  Please don’t tell anyone about it. Please.

  I knew it sounded desperate, but I was pretty desperate. This could undo everything I’d worked for in high school. I swore I would never be the girl that everyone mocked and teased and made fun of. Just thinking about it made my stomach heave and I had to run to the bathroom. All the popcorn came back up and I gasped, resting my forehead on my arm.

  Dad knocked softly.

  “You okay, Star?” He had enough courtesy not to bust through the door and ask if he could hold my hair or something.

  “Yeah,” I said, getting to my feet and flushing the toilet. I grabbed my toothbrush and started scrubbing my teeth hard.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” he said before I heard him walk away from the door.

  My phone buzzed and I nearly swallowed my toothbrush.

  Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.

  I slumped against the sink and spit out the toothpaste before rinsing my mouth out.

  Thank you.

  I left it at that. I should probably just pretend that it didn’t happen. Yes. That was the best way to deal with this. Kyle wasn’t going to say anything and I was sure she wanted to forget about it.

  There was only one problem.

  I couldn’t forget about it.

  Late that night, in the throes of sleep, my brain took hold of the kiss and let it go further. One kiss became two and then there were tongues and hands and clothes on the floor and before I knew it I was awake and panting with my hand between my legs and the sweet burn of desire flooding my veins.

  I moaned and there was no way I could get back to sleep, so I slid my hand under the waistband of my panties and got to work. I was so close that it was only a few moments later that I came, shuddering and biting my hand so I didn’t moan too loudly.

  Dad’s room was down the hall, but I didn’t want to take any chances that he’d hear me. Sometimes he stayed up late reading or doing work for his classes.

  The shudders slowly stopped and I had to lay there for a second before I could even think about moving. I hadn’t come that hard in a long time. And I wasn’t done. The ache started up again a few seconds later and I was back at it, with the dream-kiss scenario fueling me.

  Three orgasms later, I was finally done and ready to sleep. I went to the bathroom to wash my hand on semi-shaky legs.

  That was when the guilt and the shame set in, but I refused to feel bad about it. I wouldn’t let myself go there. I’d had plenty of fantasies about girls before, they’d just never been very specific. So I’d used Kyle to get myself off a few times, so what? It didn’t mean anything. She was just there and she was cute and I’d kissed her.

  Didn’t.

  Mean.

  Anything.

  I sat in my car for a few minutes after I’d rushed out of Stella’s house. Because what the fuck.

  She . . . she definitely kissed me. There was no way around that. I mean, it wasn’t like she’d leaned in to pluck an eyelash off my cheek, or was checking me for cavities or something. Nope. That was definitely meant to be a kiss.

  It . . . kind of was, before I realized what was happening and flipped out. Because why wouldn’t I flip out? Stella was . . . the last person I thought would ever kiss me. I mean, the fact that we had been yelling at each other and the next second she thought “hey, I should kiss this girl right now” was fucking crazy.

  Fucking crazy.

  My hands shook on the steering wheel as I gripped it. I needed something to ground me or else I was going to float away in a haze of confusion.

  I should probably go. Like, right now. Definitely before her dad came home and caught me loitering in the driveway. I wouldn’t even know how to explain that.

  Telling myself to get my shit together, I rolled my shoulders and turned my car on. I wasn’t going home right away, I couldn’t. My parents would know that something had happened and then I’d have to come up with some sort of story that they’d buy. I mean, I was still going to have to do that because my pare
nts were my parents, but at least if I had some time, I could hopefully calm myself down and come up with something good.

  Nearly an hour of driving later and I didn’t feel any more calm. Stella had texted me and begged me not to say anything. That hadn’t even occurred to me. What kind of person did she think I was? The desperation seethed through the texts. I could almost smell it. Belatedly, it hit me that if I wanted to destroy Stella, I had the perfect ammunition.

  Lucky for Stella, this wasn’t a stupid, vapid teen television show where one rumor would destroy a reputation forever and a day. I didn’t hate Stella. Well, maybe a little, but only because of the way she made me feel. Sure, her personality sucked sometimes, but she had her moments. They were few and far between, but they were there. We’d sort of flirted and traded barbs back and forth and I saw what she might be if she let her guard down. Also made me curious why she kept a guard up. If she wasn’t a bitch, then why did she want people to think that?

  Stella Lewis was a fucking mystery and I just kept sinking deeper and deeper.

  I couldn’t sleep that night. I was still thinking about the sort-of kiss. Trying to remember what it had felt like, but it had been too short to really judge. I’d never kissed a girl before. I mean, I’d never wanted to.

  Did I want to kiss Stella?

  Well, if I asked my body, then it was a resounding YES. If I asked my brain . . . it was NO followed by a very quiet yes. Followed by a no. And then another yes.

  Yeah, okay, I was confused. Even more confused than before the not-kiss.

  I kept trying to get comfortable and couldn’t. Every position I tried I’d get uncomfortable after about five minutes. I tried everything. I pillow under my knees, my feet by the headboard, on my back, on both sides, nothing.

  My mind was too busy thinking about too many things to let my body slow down long enough to get into sleep mode. I finally gave up and grabbed my phone. At least if I couldn’t sleep, I had something to distract me.