Gal Pals

by Lily Craig

  “So you really didn’t know who I was?”

  Was it that hard to believe? Sheesh, you meet some egos in this town. She’s lucky she’s so cute.

  “Yes, I committed the grave sin of not having heard of Vanessa…” I trailed off, unsure of her last name.

  “Vanessa Corrington,” she said. But there was mirth in her eyes as she filled me in. “You know, you’re refreshing. Rude, but refreshing.”

  “If it’s rude for me not to know about you, can I call you rude for not knowing me?”

  “The great Tara…”

  “Winthrop.”

  “The great Tara Winthrop without her admirers, how can we survive in this hellscape?”

  “At least we’ve got drinks,” I said. I held my beer up to clink glasses with Vanessa, and we both took big swigs. I could feel the electricity between us crackling now. Just because Vanessa was short and beautiful didn’t mean she couldn’t take some sass.

  I liked her more and more.

  “Aside from being a really big deal, what do you like to do for fun?”

  “Not much,” said Vanessa. “I guess I like hiking, yoga, those stereotypically actress-y Los Angeles things. What about you? Photography the only thing you do?”

  “Almost,” I said. “But wait, you really like hiking that much? I thought that was just something people pretended to like so they could act superior.”

  “It’s so fun!” Vanessa exclaimed, positively gushing with enthusiasm. It was endearing as all hell.

  “Actual fun or ‘good for you’ fun?”

  “Both?”

  I raised an eyebrow with my best ‘not convinced’ expression.

  “Let me take you hiking,” she said. Again, Vanessa leaned in conspiratorially. “I promise you won’t hate it as much as you think you will.”

  “A ringing endorsement.”

  “Hey, I owe you one,” she said.

  “One favor for saving you from paparazzi or one cruel act for getting you accosted by them in the first place?”

  She smiled beatifically, ignoring my question entirely.

  This girl was going to push me way out of my comfort zone.

  “Ok then,” I said. “Whichever it is, I’m in.”

  The rest of the night was a happy blur of learning about Vanessa’s roles, both independent movies and her breakout blockbuster, telling her about my photography dream business, and all the while sipping on drinks in the casual, perfect privacy of the back room.

  I didn’t normally date girls like her. Hell, I didn’t normally meet girls like her.

  Despite that, I was grateful beyond measure that we’d found each other. However strange the first encounter had been, my heart had known I wanted to document Vanessa. My gut had forced me to act quickly to save her from the paparazzi. And now my whole being was experiencing a kind of enchantment I wasn’t sure how to manage.

  So be it.

  “You’re trying to kill me!” I gasped, barely able to make out the words between wheezes.

  “No, I’m not,” she said, turning back to wait for me to catch up. Judging by the wobbling in my legs, it might have taken a while if she hadn’t started descending the hill to join me.

  My sweat was flowing down my forehead, neck, and shins. I could feel the flush in my cheeks as vividly as if I were blushing furiously. It was patently obvious that my fitness level was nowhere near Vanessa’s. At least from this angle, I got to enjoy seeing her have fun. Vicarious hiking was better than nothing.

  Vanessa trotted down to meet me and took my hand. We were halfway up the hill, a path winding its way through the dusty vegetation of the Los Angeles foothills. Sunshine diffused a golden glow onto us as the morning progressed, hazy tops of palm trees visible from the base of the hill all the way over to the coast.

  I’d come here for my career. To make something of myself. Yet all I’d done was tinker, try to learn, and get stuck in the dead-end job I’d thought I was avoiding back in Indiana. My stomach clenched with anxiety for the millionth time as I considered my dreams and how much they contrasted with reality.

  But then Vanessa shuffled closer and my stomach wobbled in a different way. She was incredibly beautiful, the gleam of exertion just enough to highlight her cheekbones and brighten her eyes.

  “Hiking suits you,” I said. “Not me.”

  “It just takes time and practice, like anything else,” she answered. “I’ll wait until you’ve caught your breath.”

  “Don’t know that that will happen, I think my breath ran back down the hill when it heard this would take two hours.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She smiled at me indulgently. “But I promise it’s worth it.”

  A fit-looking couple passed us on their way down the hill, their chipper smiles infusing me with the kind of rage that wants to tear up anyone else’s achievements.

  “Good lord, I hope so,” I breathed. Vanessa laughed, kissing me on the shoulder softly.

  “I’m really glad you came here with me,” she said. “It’s one of my favorite places in this town. Quiet and secluded.”

  “If you can survive the journey,” I said.

  Vanessa swatted at my butt playfully. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad!”

  Truthfully, she was right. My lack of cardiovascular fitness was my own doing: way more time spent editing photos on my computer late into the night than waking up in order to get to Zumba classes. And if my heart didn’t give out before we got to the top, I got to share this special, private hike with someone who lit strange fires inside me.

  We kept going, Vanessa consciously altering her pace so that I could keep up. It was a small gesture, but somehow it meant a great deal to me. I realized that she probably wasn’t as self-absorbed as I’d assumed earlier, just the kind of star whose privacy had been so eroded she genuinely couldn’t tell what the world thought of her.

  It was a little sad, actually. She was this vibrant person, quirky and bold, but she had to shut herself off from the world most of the time to be safe and to keep working. I could understand why she’d have risked the paparazzi hounding her like they did in order to have a moment of normalcy.

  Moments like that must be so rare and fleeting for her.

  Finally, we reached the top. Surrounded by a thicket of trees, there was a clearing. Vanessa strode to the center and then continued to the edge of the trees on the South side. There, she followed a narrow path that gently wound to a stunning view over the Los Angeles basin.

  This was why you hiked. Not for the blisters, or the constant dripping sweat. To see things you wouldn’t normally see. It reminded me of photography, capturing moments and energizing the eye so that anything could be beautiful.

  I’d brought my camera but hadn’t had the energy to pull it out along the trail. Now that we’d stopped, I was ready. Within a minute, I’d attached a lens, framed the shot, and taken several pictures of the palm trees rising from their narrow trunks, peeking out over the haze as if to check on their neighbors.

  While I snapped pictures, Vanessa stood close to me silently. I felt her eyes on me, watching the process. It must have been a reversal of sorts for her, to gaze at the camera rather than be fixed in the camera’s eyesight.

  Though I longed to take pictures of her then, to immortalize the heavenly glow on her perfect skin and to show her vivid irises, I restrained myself. There could be memories from this hike as well as documentation through photos. I’d have to treasure those mental images all the more carefully for their transitory nature.

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmured. Although I kept my eye trained on the scene in front of me, through my peripheral vision I could see Vanessa smiling. She looked proud. Serene.

  Then the photography wasn’t enough. I put away my camera, suddenly consumed by the need to kiss her. It was like she and I were the only people in the entire nature preserve, as if we’d found a secret spot to observe the universe together.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” I said. “It’s been fun.
”

  Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “Really now? Sounds like the exact opposite of what you were saying before.”

  She stepped closer, the line of her collarbone highlighted by the rising sun. There was grace to Vanessa’s every movement, every inch of her body purposeful and held with poise.

  I shook my head. “And look what I’ve learned. See? Worth it.”

  While I pointed out to the view, I kept my eyes locked on hers. She knew what I meant. And we closed the final distance between us in an instant, falling together into a kiss that matched the splendor of the incredible panorama.

  Vanessa held me tightly and I could smell the light freesia of her antiperspirant, and underneath it the scent of just her, natural and alive. Her breath was quickened by our touch, breasts pressed against me so that I felt my own heat growing. I wanted to touch her forever, to stay here in a perfect moment while somehow living onwards, too.

  Her hands swept down the sides of my body, cupping my hip and then moving to my butt. She gave me a squeeze and laughed lightly, breaking our kiss for a second.

  I stood so close I could feel her breath on my neck, the warmth of it almost agonizing in its intimacy. Vanessa was a few inches shorter than me, but for some reason seemed tall despite her height. She had a personality that made up the difference, I supposed.

  I let my hands rove, too, exploring the soft weight of her chest, running up the lines of her shoulders with delicate contact against her skin. Perhaps if I were a little less sweaty, I’d have taken my clothes off and asked her to do the same.

  Vanessa’s hands teased at the top of my shorts, promising to slide downwards and touch me. I ached for the feeling but suddenly she froze.

  A twig snapped.

  “What was that?” she whispered to me. We were still entwined, still touching and breathing as one.

  Through the branches, I could see brightly coloured workout gear in the clearing. Another few people had reached the top of the hike.

  “More hikers,” I said.

  But it was as if a switch had been turned, and Vanessa jumped back from me. “Shit.”

  Against my better judgment, I tried to kiss her again, to reconnect and enjoy ourselves the way we had just been. Vanessa shook her head and so I stopped.

  “Why?” I asked her.

  The hesitation in her eyes was mixed with sadness, and I realized the answer before she even needed to say anything.

  “You’re not out, are you?”

  She breathed a ragged sigh.

  “I am. Just not in Hollywood,” she said.

  Chapter Three

  The disappointment in Tara’s eyes could have pushed me off the side of the mountain, it was so palpable. So …cutting. I didn’t want to have to see that look ever again.

  I’d have much rather have kept making out.

  But your stupid plan to keep your personal life private had to happen, didn’t it?

  When confronted with a real, actual person who I wanted to kiss, the plan seemed god-awful and cruel.

  “I just assumed, with your hair, I guess,” Tara said. She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “How stereotypical was that?”

  “I didn’t really mean for it to happen,” I said. “I mean, my college girlfriend and I weren’t exactly campus secrets. But that was in small-town Maine, before I was famous. Here I was too busy to date and by the time I wanted to, it seemed like it might have been a better idea to keep my private life private.”

  “When did it turn from private to padlocked, though?”

  I knew the answer.

  Steph.

  I just didn’t want to admit it, let alone explain it to Tara. She had this ease about her that I envied so deeply I could practically taste it.

  “I’m guessing it was never a big issue for you, being gay?” I said.

  “Don’t deflect or try to turn this into something about me, Vanessa.”

  She was right. I could sense the tiger in my guts pacing about, searching desperately for something to tear, to destroy. If only to delay the angst that I knew would soon target me. My own doing, yes, but still painful.

  “I’m sorry, that was offside. I just…my agency reassigned my old manager when Dream Time blew up my life, and the new one isn’t really my kind of person. Something just doesn’t work for me with her.”

  “Did she tell you to stay closeted?”

  “Not in those words.”

  “But she probably agreed with your reluctance about your love life, didn’t talk you out of it?”

  My silence was response enough. Tara’s expression softened as she watched the pain that must have been clear to see on my face.

  “That’s terrible,” she said. She took my hands in hers and brought them up to her mouth, kissing each tenderly. I loved the softness of her lips against my skin. “I’m sorry that so much of your life has been taken over by your success.”

  “I should be grateful, though,” I said. My voice was quiet.

  “For the work and the money, maybe, but not for the havoc it’s wreaked on your life. Everyone deserves to be happy, should get the chance to live their actual lives and not the life they think they have to live.”

  My throat began tightening with emotion, and Tara could sense that I was getting overwhelmed. She let me stand there quietly, and then we both hiked down the mountain together in amiable silence. At the bottom of the hill, she laughed.

  “That’s a hell of a second date,” she said.

  “Bad enough you wouldn’t want a third?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Tara. Judging by the light flashing in her eyes, she’d meant the opposite. And yet again, I felt the longing wash over me in the presence of this lively, bizarre, completely unpretentious girl. I wanted to touch her and for her to touch me, away from the countless eyes and shutters of which I lived in fear.

  “How about you come over to my place tomorrow, then?”

  It was bold.

  But it worked. Tara tilted her head and grinned at me, unabashed in her excitement.

  “I’d love to.”

  I’d been renting the house for a year or so, but it still didn’t feel like home. Just a place to sleep and to swim, maybe, when I didn’t feel worried about someone peering through the bushes or capturing my bikini-clad body on camera. Though the neighborhood was safe, at least a few blogs had reported I’d moved there.

  That night was different. Tara rang the doorbell, a staccato pair of dings that somehow seemed to perfectly encapsulate her energy. I couldn’t suppress the grin that spread on my face when I answered the door.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice casual though she was wearing a breathtaking yellow sundress. Her hair was in loose waves down her back and framed her face perfectly. It took all the strength I could muster not to stare and instead to invite her in.

  I was just in a button-up shirt and jeans, having apparently underestimated the evening. At least I’d remembered to turn on some music and get started on the pizza early.

  I felt unexpectedly shy and awkward.

  “Have a hard time finding the place?” I asked, wanting to smack myself when I heard the words.

  “No, Google was all-knowing, as usual.”

  “Great…”

  Why was I so jittery around her?

  “Smells good!” she exclaimed, following me to the kitchen while clearly trying not to ogle the place. It was spacious to say the least.

  Finally, I acquiesced to giving Tara a tour, during which she ooed appreciatively at various parts of the house I had never once thought about. We ate the pizza, a homemade attempt at date food that more or less succeeded. And then I poured us each a glass of Malbec and we went to the patio.

  “If I had a view like this, I’d never leave my house,” Tara whispered, taking in the sweeping view of the city, hills, and far-off ocean stretching infinitely into the distance. She kicked off her shoes and seemed to relish the feeling of warm patio stones beneath her feet.

  Though the sun was sink
ing lower, colouring the sky with muted pastels and an evening glow that I’d come to associate strongly with California, Tara shone bright as ever.

  She turned to me. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Vanessa.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I want you to know, I’ve thought about it and it doesn’t matter to me if you’re semi-closeted. I feel something with you, something special, and I want to pursue it.”

  The tightness in my chest lifted and took hold in my throat, followed by a wave of hopeful anticipation.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I said. My voice sounded distant and foreign, but at least the words were right.

  And before I could take another sip of wine, Tara tiptoed closer to me. She was haloed by the setting sun, the brown waves of her hair contrasting against the bright backdrop of her dress. The picture was the kind of view you’d recall again and again in your mind.

  Then it got even better, Tara kissing me with a ferocity I hadn’t expected from her sweet expression. There was fire there, and power. I wanted to taste it even more.

  I left my glass on the side table and leaned Tara up against the railing that ringed the patio, letting my tongue explore her mouth with the eagerness I felt in every molecule of my body. She responded in kind, and soon we were interlocked. I led her from the patio to my bedroom, glancing backwards to take in the gorgeous picture of her, eyes alive and hair mussed from our encounter.

  Though we made it to the bedroom, I couldn’t wait for her to lie down. I pushed her to the wall and kissed her firmly, tasting the sweetness of her lips and then moving my mouth down the side of her neck with delicate hunger. This time, when I swept my hand up Tara’s thigh and to the waistband of her underwear, no one interrupted us. We were alone, together.

  This time, I slid my fingers down to meet her and she gasped at the contact. And I got to enjoy it, to feel the way she responded to my touch by moistening, by widening her stance to give me further access. Tara’s eyes closed and she inhaled, the hollow of her neck lightly beaded with sweat. There would be more where that came from, soon.