Girl Love Happens : Season One

by T. B. Markinson

  Under the hot water, I massaged shampoo in my hair, unable to stop thinking about last night. I had sex with Gemma. Finally.

  My toes went cold, and the sensation crawled up my legs, overtaking my body despite the water temperature.

  Oh my God. I had sex with a woman.

  I was a lesbian now. Like, officially.

  I breathed in and out of my mouth.

  And we didn’t practice safe sex.

  Was there such a thing as a female condom?

  Wait, Tegan. Gemma couldn’t get me pregnant.

  But could she transmit an STD?

  She’d only been with Kate, though. Surely lesbian STDs weren’t rampant in Keller, Nebraska.

  Just great. Not only was I a lesbian, but I knew absolutely nothing about them. I was the worst lesbian on the planet.

  The bathroom door opened. “Tegan, you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said in an overly cheery voice.

  “You sure? You’ve been in here awhile.”

  I cracked the shower door open. “Have I?”

  “Over twenty minutes. The pizza is here.” Her soft eyes surveyed my face.

  Gemma was so kind, sweet, and comforting.

  Not to mention fucking hot.

  All the whirring thoughts dissipated like when the sun bursts through gray clouds, banishing raindrops.

  “If the pizza’s here, why aren’t you getting wet with me?” I opened the door all the way.

  “Is there any hot water left?” She put her hand under the spray.

  “I’ll keep you warm.”

  Chapter Three

  Saturday morning arrived, and Gemma and I left our room for the cafeteria on the main floor. Per usual, we walked down the five flights of stairs. The two elevators took forever and also creaked and squawked, which gave the impression that at any second they would hurtle to the ground, not stopping until reaching China.

  We made a beeline for the cereal dispensers and then filled several small glasses with orange juice and water.

  “G&T!” April waved us over. Her smile was as fake as her bleach-blonde hair and tan.

  We carried our trays and sat opposite our floormates. The place was nearly abandoned. Most didn’t get out of bed for breakfast on Saturdays.

  Jenny grinned foolishly. “We haven’t seen you two in days. What’s up?”

  Gemma’s eyes boggled, and her cheeks burned. Our newfound sexual confidence didn’t extend beyond our room.

  “Oh, I’m slammed with midterms and papers. Poor Gemma has been helping me study.” I momentarily placed a hand on Gemma’s thigh.

  “That blows,” Jenny said.

  “Totally ruins the image I had of you, Tiny T. I’d thought for sure you’d be holed up for more entertaining reasons.” April’s suggestive wink and sneer were so crystal clear that people sitting five tables away would know their meaning. Once last semester, Gemma had to crash in April and Jenny’s room when Josh visited. Ever since then, April had this image of me being a total slut. She turned to Gemma. “It totally fits you, though. You’re always such a good helper bee.” April licked the yogurt off her spoon.

  Jenny jabbed an elbow in April’s side. “What do you guys have planned this weekend?”

  “Gemma’s parents are coming tonight for dinner,” I said.

  “Again? Weren’t they just here?” April directed the question to Gemma.

  “Nah. It was my parents who visited,” I lied. Jenny smiled knowingly. For some reason, April hated Gemma. Actually, she hated most people, but she was civil to me. I put up with her attitude, knowing that if I turned on her, she’d make our lives a living hell, especially Gemma’s. I also put up with her since she was Jenny’s roommate and I adored Jenny.

  April narrowed her eyes. “Oh, that’s right. Your mom’s awesome.” Her smile made me uncomfortable, and Gemma shifted in her seat as if she was defending her territory.

  My mother, who in my opinion was not awesome, was an aerobics instructor and had shown up one weekend to lead a private class for me and my friends. Her motto was to sweat off the freshman fifteen, and when I’d gone home for Thanksgiving, my mother exclaimed, “Aren’t you exercising at all?” I wondered what dear old Mom would think of my new exercise regimen.

  “Gemma, are you going to the game tomorrow?” Jenny asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  “You bet.”

  Gemma and Jenny played on a coed intramural inner tube water polo team. Most of the games turned into a splash-fest.

  “And will our best cheerleader be there?” Jenny said and then sipped her water.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said.

  April huffed and stood up abruptly. “Gotta run.” When she walked by, she messed with my hair more flirtatiously than normal, making both Gemma and Jenny fidget. Did she suspect the real reason Gemma and I had been holed up in our room? Were we emitting some sort of sapphic vibes? She would be the last person in the world I’d ever confide in.

  As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to Jenny. “What died and crawled up her ass?”

  Jenny sighed. “She failed an astronomy test earlier this week and has been a total bitch since. Her mom won’t keep paying for school if she brings home another F.” Jenny shook her head like a weary boxer after ten rounds.

  “If you need a break, you can come to dinner with us,” I said. It wasn’t until Gemma dropped her fork that I realized my mistake.

  “Thanks.” She stuck her chin out at Gemma. “I love your folks, but I have plans to see a movie. Next time, though. I promise.”

  If there is a next time after Gemma’s bombshell.

  “What movie?” I swallowed water in an attempt to still the thrumming in my throat.

  “Alive.” Jenny scooped in a mouthful of Cheerios. There was nothing spectacular about her. As my mom would say, “She had a great face for radio.”

  “Good choice! Dress warm. When Gem and I saw it, I was shivering. Can you imagine your plane crashing in the Andes?”

  Gemma wrapped a leg around mine. I peeked at her and saw her don’t worry; no one can see look.

  “And eating your teammates?” Gemma’s mischievous smile didn’t fit the conversation.

  Jenny guzzled the remaining milk in her cereal bowl and stood to take her leave. “Later.”

  We both nodded.

  When the coast was clear, I said, “I’m so sorry. I almost completely blew it.”

  Gemma laughed. “It would have made tonight even more awkward. Not sure I want to say I’m a lesbian and also have my parents infer I’m in a ménage à trois.”

  That made me giggle. I had no idea anyone from Gemma’s town even knew the term.

  Jenny wasn’t shy about being a dyke and most suspected when meeting her. Even Gemma’s hick parents knew with one glance that she was different from most other girls.

  Gemma hadn’t told any of our friends that she was gay. And of course I hadn’t spilled the beans about my recent revelation. Not yet at least. I was famous for putting my foot in my mouth, so it was probably best to keep it under wraps for now.

  “Come on. Let’s get some studying done before tonight.” Gemma stood.

  “Is that what you call it?” I flashed a seductive smile.

  She shook her head playfully and motioned for me to walk ahead of her in the hallway.

  “Who would have thought studying would be so invigorating?”

  Gemma drew in a deep breath. “Remember, you actually have an exam on Monday.” She opened the door to the stairwell.

  “Yes, Mom. But all work and no play, makes Jill—”

  In the deserted staircase, Gemma pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard.

  “Thank God I got you as a roommate and not a bitch like April.”

  “Would you be kissing her instead?” She ran a finger down my shirt.

  “No! Never.” I pinched her ass for good measure.

  “What do you think the hair thing meant?” She checked out our f
eet.

  Gemma’s jealousy struck me as cute. “Oh, probably trying to get to Jenny. You know April. Besides, I think she’s overly sexual with most people so they’ll notice her. Now, we’d best get upstairs and get our learn on.” I patted her butt. “Scoot. Your parents will be here before we know it.”

  Gemma chewed her lower lip.

  I tugged her arm, forcing her to face me. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right by your side. Everything will work out.”

  I hoped my face didn’t show my true feelings. I was terrified. Scared out of my mind for Gemma. And for me.

  “Come along, poopsie,” I said.

  Gemma’s Lesbian Proclamation

  Chapter Four

  The hostess led the way through a horde of sorority girls, most of whom looked like Shannen Doherty, Jennie Garth, or Tori Spelling of Beverly Hills, 90210. Thankfully, they were leaving Applebee’s as we ventured farther and farther until the girl plastered a smile on her face and dramatically waved to the last booth near the bar, saying, “Here ya go, folks.”

  I scooted over, and Gemma squeezed in next to me. Ava, Gemma’s mom, sat opposite me, and her husband, Cormac, took up the remaining two-thirds of the bench.

  Before the hostess had time to scram, a waiter appeared and set down four waters. Talk about efficiency. “Would any of you like something to drink besides water?” he asked.

  Gem and I chirped simultaneously, “Chocolate shake, please.”

  “Coffee, please,” Ava said with a motherly smile.

  “Diet Coke.” Cormac glommed onto the menu with meaty fingers.

  Once the waiter left, Ava straightened her back and propped her elbows on the table. “How are classes?”

  “Fine,” we both chorused. My voice was more enthusiastic than Gemma’s.

  “Gemma, are you feeling well? You’re deathly white. Did you not sleep last night? You always look pale when you stay up late.” Ava leaned over the table to feel her daughter’s forehead with the back of her hand.

  Neither of us got much sleep the previous night, and it wasn’t because we were studying, unless you plunked our activities into the sexual education category.

  “Pulling a lot of all-nighters?” Cormac asked.

  I choked on my water, drawing their attention to me. Gemma bumped my leg under the table, and the amusement that danced in her eyes made me choke more.

  “Put your arms up.” Cormac demonstrated by reaching for the sky.

  Gemma rolled her eyes. “Dad, she’s choking. Not deaf.”

  “J-just s-swallowed wrong.” I cleared my throat in an attempt to tamper the tickle. “I’m good.”

  The waiter arrived with our drinks.

  Gemma held my shake and slipped the straw into my mouth. “It’ll help your throat,” she coaxed.

  Ava eyed us with a curious squint.

  Cormac tapped the menu to get the waiter’s attention away from me, the spaz. “We’ll start with spinach and artichoke dip along with mozzarella sticks. Those are your faves, right Gemma?”

  Gemma nodded.

  “Very good, sir.” The waiter spun around.

  “Tegan, your little fit reminded me of the time when Gemma’s uncle Dermot decided to piss on a fire ant hill,” Cormac said.

  “How are you connecting the two, dear?” Ava asked with a knowing smile.

  “What do you mean?” He seemed generally befuddled.

  I’d learned long ago that Cormac’s transitions into one of his tall tales never made sense. I suspected Ava knew that better than most, but she enjoyed goading him.

  “Are you going to let me tell the story?” he asked.

  “By all means. Don’t let logic get in the way of a story.” Ava motioned for him to continue.

  Cormac playfully huffed, and Ava winked at me. I wished my parents enjoyed each other’s company half as much as Gemma’s parental units.

  “Now where was I?” He rubbed his double chins for effect and then snapped his fingers. “That’s right, Dermot and the ants.” He wiggled his butt on the seat. “Let’s just say Dermot wasn’t entirely sober when he came up with his scheme. So last Fourth of July, it was hotter than hot, which meant beer flowed like water. We were nowhere near a restroom, and Dermot had to go. Real bad. That was when he spotted the anthill.”

  “Dad!” Gemma tried to interject.

  “Not you, too, Gemma. Hold on a second. The women in my family don’t ever let me talk,” Cormac said to me with as much sincerity as he could muster. “Oooh boy, those ants were hopping mad! And fast.” He rubbed his palms together. “I can still remember him standing there with his jeans around his ankles—”

  Gemma and her mom both sighed and shook their heads.

  When Ava interrupted again, Gemma caught my eye and gave me the look—the one that said, “I’m going to do it, so prepare for the lesbian declaration.” Fear clawed its way into my mind and body. Even though I’d been steeling myself all day, the impending bombshell seized my throat, almost rendering me incapable of breathing. Under the table, I focused on tightly twisting a napkin around my finger. This was Gemma’s moment after all.

  Mostly.

  Did she still plan on telling them I was her girlfriend?

  I tried to swallow the lump in my throat but failed.

  Gemma didn’t notice my panicked wheeze. And I knew she wasn’t stalling for time to gird her nerves. When Gemma set her mind to do something, she did it, by golly. I admired that, even though I was insanely jealous at times by her grit and how everything always seemed to work out. Like the time she had spaced on studying for a calculus test but aced it anyway.

  Shit, Tegan. Was I hoping today would be a complete and total disaster? I chewed on my bottom lip. I was the worst girlfriend in the world, and it was only day three of our relationship.

  Gemma cleared her throat.

  Cormac ignored her completely, still playfully arguing with Ava. “Woman! Are you going to let me finish my story?”

  “Oh, I know once you get going, nothing will stop you.” Ava patted his cheek.

  “Darn right.” They shared a glance that made me squirm. Parents and sexual attraction—I never wanted to make the connection. Cormac turned back to us and continued as if he’d never been interrupted. I wondered how many times he’d told this story. “But the poor sucker couldn’t get his boots off because it was so dang hot that summer and he had decided not to wear socks. The sweat superglued the boots right onto his feet. Dermot hopped around on one foot and then the other, desperately trying to yank off his boots while the entire time those suckers swarmed up and over like demons heading toward his—”

  Gemma’s tight smile didn’t quiet her father.

  She placed a hand on the sleeve of his navy L.L. Bean sweater. While Ava knitted her own sweaters, she admitted it would take knitting until the end of days to make sweaters large enough for Cormac. He thought the joke was hilarious. Me, I would have been pissed. After living with my mother for eighteen years, I was tired of snide comments about my weight. I was only a size six and well within a healthy weight according to my doctor. Not that Mom ever listened. Anything above a size zero was a complete and total failure in her mind.

  “Dad, I want to tell you and—”

  “The look on Dermot’s face. We thought for sure he’d—”

  Cormac stopped when the waiter approached with the appetizers.

  “What do you say, ladies? Shall we all order the double-glazed baby back ribs?” Cormac raised his bushy and unwieldy eyebrows over his round wire-framed glasses.

  Gemma and I nodded enthusiastically. Typically, when Gemma and I splurged by going to dinner, we shared an entrée, drank water, and skipped appetizers and desserts. The best thing about parents visiting was gorging on yummy, free food.

  The waiter’s interruption gave a moment’s peace to settle my thundering heart. It was like I was the one coming out. If Gemma actually mentioned our new status as girlfriends, I guess I was doing just that. I dug my nails in my thigh. When I
had concocted the girlfriend plan before we kissed for the first time, I hadn’t been thinking of the consequences. My only thought had been to get Gemma’s lips on mine.

  Tegan, stop! Focus on something else before you have a full-blown panic attack.

  My eyes found Gemma’s dad. He took note and said, “Did you know that Gemma has met Bill Clinton in the flesh.” He shifted in his seat again, and I remembered Gemma mentioning he had back problems. “You see back in Keller, everyone in town and visitors pop into our outdoors shop for all their hiking, fishing, and backpacking gear. But it’s more than that. They come for their morning, afternoon, and what-the-heck cup of Joe in the small café nestled in the back. Ava runs it, and she makes the best cinnamon rolls.”

  Ava blushed.

  He squeezed her hand. “It’s because of her scrumptious rolls I got this gut.” He patted his belly. “Even presidential hopefuls stop by during elections to sample one and to press the flesh with locals. That’s how Gemma shook Bill Clinton’s hand during the last election.” Cormac nodded at his daughter.

  By the time the waiter came to clear our dinner plates, Gemma was rubbing her forehead. I’d lost count of how many times she tried to get Cormac’s attention. Secretly, I was pleased Cormac was such a storyteller.

  When the waiter finished, Cormac said, “Did you read our letter last week about Grandma Mavis and her dog?” He locked eyes on me. “She took the dog to the vet because she was absolutely convinced he’d swallowed her wedding ring. When I caught wind they were going to operate on the poor creature, I had to confess that I took it to have it resized for—”

  Gemma balled up her fists, snapped her eyes shut, and belted out, “I’m a lesbian!”

  Several people near our booth craned or swiveled their necks to spot the source of the admission. Many stared slack-jawed. No one in sight moved or uttered a word. If this were a piece of art, it’d be titled Gemma’s Lesbian Proclamation.

  Thank God the sorority chicks had left, or this news would spread faster than a herpes outbreak.

  The song “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me” played in the background, and I had to suppress a nervous giggle. I twirled a mood ring around my middle finger. It was blacker than black.