Gal Pals

by Lily Craig

  The quiet approval was more than I’d expected, and it was then that I realized, staring deeply into Vanessa’s bright, clear eyes, that I loved her. I’d been so unhinged in my worries about the place because it felt like an opportunity to pass judgment on me, to find me wanting.

  Instead, I had a girl who looked at me like she was thrilled and I could feel her happiness radiating out from the spot where she stood.

  “I have good news!” I said. “But first, let’s eat that food. I’m starving.”

  I wondered, while we sat at my small dining table and dug into the tacos she’d brought over, if Vanessa felt the same way as me. By the time we were finished and cuddled up on my futon, I had decided it didn’t matter.

  I felt what I felt, damn the consequences. And here next to me was the woman I wanted to spend my days with. The person who brought a new life to my existence. A girl whose touch lit me on fire and made me want to levitate with bliss.

  That, surely, was worth it alone.

  Chapter Five

  Tara’s knee was touching mine, and I could barely think straight because of it. Half of the sentences I wanted to start evaporated before I was able to voice the first words. She was positively vibrating with nerves and excitement.

  Judging by the way she kept glancing around the room, she’d been scared for me to see her place. I wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter that I was rich now; I’d known far worse days than she seemed to be living through. But there wasn’t really a way to say that without sounding condescending.

  Instead, I took her hand in mine and smiled at her.

  “You’re really special to me, you know that?”

  It was like I shone a light on her and she reflected it back tenfold. Tara’s eyelashes fluttered with happy bashfulness.

  “You are to me, too. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I sometimes feel like we’ve known each other much longer than we actually have. You know?”

  I nodded.

  I did.

  It was connection. The bond between us somehow broke the definitions of where I thought I should be in a relationship by now. I kissed her shoulder, working my way across her neck to the spot where I always tickled her, making her body seize up in laughter.

  Then I kissed her mouth, pulling her closer with a palm on the back of her neck. Her skin was warm and soft, lips hungry for my touch just as I assumed the rest of her was, too. Though we’d touched before, something felt different tonight.

  It was quieter. More intimate.

  If I were forced to guess, being at Tara’s place made me feel safe, like the world couldn’t find me here. She was keeping me in a haven that was just for the two of us, not the gossip blogs or even my manager or stylist.

  I let the kiss deepen naturally, our tongues softly flicking against each other, breath starting to synchronize. Then I realized something.

  “You said you had good news. I totally forgot!”

  The familiar half-smile on her face was difficult to resist. I wanted to nip at her bottom lip all over again but I resisted.

  “Oh, it can wait,” she said. Her hair was slightly mussed from our makeout session, giving her a halo effect from flyaways and the generally wavy texture of her ponytail.

  “No, no,” I said. “I mean it. What’s up?”

  “Well,” Tara looked down as she spoke, hesitating on some unknown barrier. “Don’t hate me, ok?”

  “I couldn’t hate you, even if I tried.”

  “You know how I’ve talked about starting my own business? Doing portraits and weddings and all that photography stuff? Rather than staying at a job that will almost certainly be automated in the next year or two?”

  “Of course I do, Tara.”

  “I can do it now.” She was glowing, pupils dilated from our contact but perhaps also from excitement about the idea. The possibilities of her ambitions being that much more within reach.

  “Congratulations!” I kissed her in response, revelling in the happy excuse to feel her lips against mine again.

  “I, uh, was on a photo adventure this afternoon and accidentally caught Tad Brandon breaking up with a girlfriend or something. This guy from the paparazzi trying to follow him bought a picture of mine.”

  “Ohh,” I said.

  That’s why she thought I might hate her.

  Tara was biting her lip, staring at me with eyes held so widely open that she could have been a cartoon. Some sort of exaggerated depiction of guilt, of trepidation.

  “That’s crazy,” I added. I took her hand and smiled, trying to reassure whatever part of her was stuck in that guilt.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I kissed her forehead, and then leaned in so that our foreheads were touching.

  “You don’t hate me?” she asked again, breath held as she waited for my response.

  “It wasn’t a great thing to do, Tara. If I were Tad I’d definitely be upset. But also, I’m happy for you. Paparazzi are terrible, but they’re a fact of life here if you’re even remotely famous. It’s a morally gray area and I’m on team Tara for this one.”

  The ragged sigh that Tara exhaled told me how anxious she’d been about my response. I lifted her chin with my finger and stared into her eyes.

  “Tell me more about that business, I want to hear all your plans.”

  I should have felt more hypocritical, but I didn’t. My girl got what she needed, and paparazzi would continue to be garbage no matter what she did.

  And we curled up on that college-style futon, Tara’s hands gesticulating wildly as she told me what she wanted to do, the style of portraits, the ideas she had for marketing. It was as if everything was coming into place.

  I was happy for her. Maybe more importantly, I was happy for us.

  Near the end of Tara’s discussion, my eyelids were drooping, but not because I wasn’t interested in her ideas. I blamed the 5 a.m. call time and let her shuffle me into bed with only the weakest of protestations.

  Tara kissed my cheek before I fell asleep, and the sensation calmed me, sent me into a deep, dreamless, and restful sleep. Sometime during the night, she pulled me close to her and we lay in each other’s arms until morning, when the roar of traffic on a nearby street startled me out of my slumber.

  It was the best night’s sleep I’d had in months.

  I had the day off, so Tara and I made breakfast at her place while she chattered more about her plans to start her business.

  “What do you think I should call it?” she asked, pouring a glass of orange juice.

  “I can’t decide that for you,” I said, laughing. “What speaks to you?”

  She laced her arms around me and nestled her chin into the crook of my shoulder. “You do.”

  “Vanessa Corrington Photography, then?” I suggested, shaking my hips from side to side in a gentle dance.

  “Ha ha,” she responded.

  “Hey, you’re the one who brought me into this.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The omelettes were fluffy and delicious, just the kind of food necessary for fuelling a big day of exploration. Tara had shyly suggested we explore a hike somewhere with beach views.

  I had slightly different plans.

  “Tar, I haven’t had a day off in how long?”

  “Eons, I’m guessing?”

  “Pretty much. So why don’t we do a relaxing beach day. No hiking necessary, not even under the guise of keeping myself in shape. Work pressures me enough for that already.”

  Tara’s smile was all the answer I needed. We packed bags, rifling through Tara’s crowded dresser drawers to find some aging towels with frayed edges we could take to the beach. Though I offered to splurge on some new swimsuits if need be, Tara insisted she had something already and didn’t need taking care of.

  By noon, we’d assembled a ragtag bundle of things for the beach, including a picnic basket full of bread, veggies, cheese, and more that I insisted we buy at a supermarket on the way there.

 
; Traffic was heavy, so the progress towards the beach inched along, the car’s air conditioner feebly warding off the heat of the day. It was blisteringly sunny, a perfect day to spend on the shore. Once we got within reach of the sea breeze, I asked Tara to turn off the AC and open the windows.

  A seagull wheeled above us, cawing as it scanned for discarded food scraps near people’s cars. But all I could focus on was the ocean, now only a few miles away, its scent carried on the breeze so we could close our eyes and almost pretend we were already at the beach.

  I wasn’t sure what I would do about Steph. The more time I spent with Tara, the more I realized I needed to broach the topic with my manager. I couldn’t live in secrecy my entire career, especially not if…things were serious.

  Were they?

  Some part of me tried to argue that I wasn’t living secretly, I just wasn’t correcting the heteronormative assumptions of the press. Media peoplecould do what they wanted, and I’d live my life the way I saw fit.

  But that was a pretty transparent cop-out. I knew it the moment the thought flitted through my head.

  And besides, with Tara next to me and the prospect of a beach day lying ahead of us both, there was an undeniable feeling brewing inside my belly. It was warm and affectionate, reaching its way from deep within out to the extremities of my body. She was the kind of person I wanted to be with, really date.

  Not just string along as a side piece or pretend didn’t exist when it came time to do press for movies where they asked about my life.

  I wanted to discuss my girlfriend. To tell people that there was someone special in my life, to describe her vibrant quirks and relish for the beauty of everyday, ordinary moments. I wanted to walk a red carpet and hold her hand in mine, in front of the flashing lights and rolling cameras.

  I hoped that she would have the patience with me to withstand the undercurrent of fear that had ruled me thus far. I mean, Tara wasn’t perfect, I knew that. But I also knew that she deserved to be with a girl who’d trumpet her love to the skies, not hush every wonderful moment in case it was seen.

  When I looked over at her again, my thoughts cleared by the meditative time in the car, Tara saw me and our eyes met. She smiled, her face peachy with the inner glow she carried with her. It seemed to intensify close to the ocean, or maybe that was my own happiness being infused with extra strength.

  We parked and walked down the hill to the beach, the water stretching out beneath our eyes all the way to a dazzling horizon, nearly imperceptible in its difference from the blue of the ocean. The rumble of the waves and the coolness of the breeze coming off the water soothed my nerves, took me back out of myself.

  I was here, in the moment. And so was Tara.

  Appreciate what you have, Vanessa.

  I noticed I was holding my shoulders tensely, my neck shortened by the stress I carried in my body. Once I consciously tried to relax, it was as if the healing atmosphere of the ocean was all the more potent. I let it in, let the warmth of the sun fill me with the happiness I sometimes lay awake at night craving.

  Maybe I had the things I needed to be happy, and I just had to accept that they were there. It wasn’t a matter of pursuing better parts in new movies, it wasn’t that I needed to find another hit or live up to a reputation I felt I’d made. And it definitely wasn’t something about me keeping my personal life under wraps for the sake of whatever misguided notion Steph had put in my head.

  My life was just for living, and if I looked closely enough those things I thought I needed weren’t as important as what I already had.

  I reached for Tara’s hand and she blinked at me, shocked. I hadn’t tried to hold her hand in public, ever, and she knew of my paranoia about paparazzi.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, the uncertainty in her eyes almost breaking my heart.

  What had I done? To Tara but also to myself. This was no way to be together.

  Rather than answer with words, I took her hand and firmly squeezed it. My heart raced at the contact between our palms, and then I resisted the urge to glance around and see if anyone nearby us had noticed.

  Whether I was longing to check if they saw two women holding hands or if they saw Vanessa Corrington, movie star, I wasn’t sure. The important part was that I didn’t cave in to the desire. It was cowardly. The brave thing, the thing I knew I needed to do, was enjoy the moment with the person I loved.

  Because I was beginning to suspect that was how I felt about Tara.

  As we strolled, hand in hand, along the path down to the water, the rumbling noise from the ocean grew louder. It was a day with just enough surf to crash onto the beach in muted tones, providing a soothing background to the walk.

  “This is really nice,” I said, feeling as if the words didn’t convey even half of what I was experiencing. Words probably couldn’t ever capture it.

  Tara pulled me closer, wrapping her arm around my shoulder as she grinned at me.

  “Beautiful day, beautiful girl. What’s not to like?”

  The sand was light and warm underfoot, so I kicked off my sandals and held them in my left hand. My toes sank into the sand immediately, the heat from the sun meeting the radiant warmth of the sand so I felt surrounded, cradled by blissful temperatures.

  After a few minutes, we found a spot to set up our towels and eat. If someone had recognized me, they’d left me alone at least. Tara’s hair had a few rogue strands escaping from the topknot on her head, dancing along the nape of her neck tantalizingly and framing her face to perfection.

  She leaned close to me and held out her phone to take a picture of the two of us, smiling in the sun wearing our swimsuits. Our heads were angled together so we looked the epitome of beachy, loving bliss. Then we continued to picnic.

  I almost couldn’t concentrate on the food, she looked so beautiful. Something about the atmosphere at the beach loosened both of our worries, left us blissful and slowed down to appreciate each moment as it unfurled.

  “I should live closer to the beach,” I said, more to myself than to Tara. But she heard me.

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea. I just got that place up in the hills because it seemed like a good plan at the time. But I hate driving anywhere from there. At least if I lived out here, I could go for walks and see the ocean, even though I’m sure the traffic would be nightmarish.”

  Tara tilted her head as she watched me, her sunglasses bright yellow plastic frames circling her eyes.

  “It must be so strange to be able to have whatever you want, whenever you want it. I can’t even imagine having my pick of places to live, food or clothing to buy, trips to take. There’s so much available to you. Is it paralyzing?”

  I’d never thought of it that way because the past few years had been all about work, totally focussed and driven. But I supposed there was part of me that passively accepted what others suggested because there were indeed so many choices, so many avenues open to me.

  “Probably?”

  “The fact you answered that with the tone of a question tells me all I need to know,” she said. “And don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have all the money you have, not have to worry about paying my bills every month. But I never really thought about the downsides to it until I met you.”

  “Ha, thanks,” I said.

  “No, I mean it. You’re not as free as I thought. But maybe you can be, if you pay attention and really listen to yourself.”

  She was right. When wasn’t she right?

  I shuffled closer and kissed her on the cheek, brushing aside the stray tendrils of hair so that I could reach her skin unimpeded.

  “I think you’re onto something there, Tara.”

  Though I’d intended my gesture to be tender, the light that arose in Tara’s eyes appeared to burn brighter, hotter. She smiled at me deviously and then glanced around the cliffs near the beach.

  “Follow me,” she said, and she stood, dusting sand off her knees and the bottom of her shorts be
fore she strode towards a narrow pathway that led up the hill directly above us.

  Chapter Six

  Each step was warmer than the next, my feet sinking into the sand while I relished the feeling of the way it had captured the sun’s heat. At the top of the hill there were several sheltered changing room booths, likely disused on account of us being at the remotest end of the beach.

  I went to one, letting Vanessa follow me at a short distance to prolong the intrigue.

  I wanted her, and the moment had struck me while we were enjoying the beach. So I let my hips sway sensually as I climbed, feeling each movement viscerally while I thought about Vanessa’s hands, how they could soon be on my body.

  Something about the sunshine, the fresh air, it had kindled inside me a desire to let go of some of my inhibitions. I wanted to shed the expectations we had of ourselves and relish a pure, unencumbered moment together.

  The booth closest to the pathway had no door left, the inside half-filled with a drift of sand and several stray empty bottles. The next one, however, was closed and much cleaner. I went inside and waited for the few seconds it would take for Vanessa to arrive.

  She knocked, the soft sound reverberating through the hollow wooden structure.

  “Come in,” I said, and ushered her inside with eager hands. Our mouths met without urgency, languidly caressing each other while we kissed. It was as if time had slowed and we could kiss for centuries, touch for an eon, enjoy the tantalizing peak of an orgasm for as long as a life itself.

  I slid out of my clothing, revelling in the warmth of the air against my naked skin. Then Vanessa’s mouth was on my nipples and my thoughts of the air were completely dashed, replaced by a deep, hungry awareness of every fraction of Vanessa touching me. Fingertips on my arms, tongue flicking against the hardening flesh of my nipple, nose tip pressing against my skin as she worked.

  I let my hands rove along her shoulders, her hair, her jawline. She had the kind of structure you’d expect from top-class models, but she looked at me like I was a muse. That attention, that affection was striking when you were someone like me.