Rion yawned. “Came here with Crash.”
“This is where he took you?” Arielle’s eyebrow flicked up. Rion had told her Crash had taken her out, but she hadn’t said he’d taken her to such a normal place. From what Arielle and Amy had been able to tell, not very much about Crash was normal, including the one thing that meant that Rion would date him—he was totally, one hundred percent clean. In fact, Rion had been largely stony-faced in the last Society meeting, and had skipped the part about the restaurant to tell them how amazing Crash’s art was, his romantic gesture with the picture painting, and how she’d ended up in bed with him on the first date. She’d ended by telling them how he’d made fun of her, and how mortified she’d been.
Because of this, Arielle had no real clue whether to put the guy on her shit list or on her “thank God she met you” list. Rion had been unsettled since then, distractible and cranky. It was all adding up to something, Arielle just couldn’t figure out what.
Nevertheless, she would not have imagined Crash, with tattoos up to his ears and down to his fingertips, stretched ear holes, and a job in a head shop, to take a girl out for a first date to a pancake place. But all those thoughts moved to the backburner when Arielle saw the incredible array of pancake flavor choices on the menu. A plate full of carbs drenched in liquid sugar was the siren song of any good, solid Midwestern girl, and Arielle was no exception. She ordered a stack of three, don’t bother with the eggs, please, and another cup of coffee when the waitress had a chance.
When she and Rion grinned at each other and shoved the first bites into their mouths, Arielle closed her eyes and, for the first time in days, felt relaxed. She couldn’t help but wonder if Rion had taken her to this place simply because it was on Francis, and away from campus. They’d gotten close enough that Arielle thought she could call her on it. “So,” Arielle mumbled with a half-full mouth, “Spill. Did you bring me here because you figured there was no way she’d be off campus?”
“Who?” Rion said, smiling and batting her eyes innocently.
Arielle grinned and took a swig of lukewarm coffee. For as fluffy and rich as the pancakes were, the coffee could use a little bit of work to get near to mediocre. “You know perfectly well who,” Arielle said. And then, out the plate-glass window of The Hole in the Wall Diner, passed a group of three people. There was a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a polo shirt tucked into his pants, and a woman two heads shorter than him with pearls and a matching cardigan and shell—pretty much exactly what she would have expected to see Mom wearing. And, walking between them, those absolutely unmistakable tall, curves and shining black hair. “Lauren,” she breathed, and before Rion could finish her sentence of “Of course I know who you were talking about, you idiot, you only—” she was out of her seat, hurrying the twenty steps to the door, and pressing her palms against the cool metal handlebar to open it. Then, again, the name came out into the crisp, clear air—“Lauren!”
God, the swing of her hair. She was like a goddamn Pantene commercial, and looking at her now, Arielle was ready to buy stock in the stuff. Even though, with her mess of curls, washing her hair more than twice a week was like asking to be a social pariah. It didn’t matter. Any potential embarrassment at shouting down the street to a girl she’d barely known a few weeks and barely kissed once was erased as Lauren’s smile pulled out the dimple that told Arielle it was genuine.
“Arielle! Hey!” Lauren’s feet stayed planted on the sidewalk, and realizing just how quickly this could turn awkward, Arielle hurried to erase the distance between them by trotting up to her. The smiles on the two other people’s faces were not as glowy as Lauren’s, though still there. Within a second and half, Arielle took in their still-slightly-summery outfits, remembered that Lauren was not only from California, where such clothing would be typical this time of year, but also adopted, and realized who they were.
“Mom and Dad?” Arielle asked Lauren, smiling nervously between the three of them.
“Yeah,” Lauren smiled, her voice sounding a little breathy and distracted, even though she wasn’t the one who had just trotted down two storefronts’ worth of concrete in super cute, but unbelievably uncomfortable, flats.
The smile stayed on Lauren’s face for a couple seconds of eye-locking with Arielle. The excited, happy, make-you-walk-on-a-cloud butterflies rioted in Arielle’s stomach. She felt like she was on edge and floating on air at the same time. How could she have been stupid enough to try to push these feelings away? And, just like that, the reality switch flipped.
“Mom, Dad…this is Arielle.”
Another weird half-second pause, then Lauren’s dad offered her a solid, friendly handshake. Then her mom. But something was off in their smiles, and as Lauren’s mom shot her a side glance, Arielle knew what it was. Lauren hadn’t mentioned her. In the nine weeks they’d already been in class, having lunch together at least once a week, flirting, touching, and kissing, Lauren hadn’t said a word about her. And she’d probably already introduced her parents to her friends, the ones who worked with her at the rec center or were in her other classes. Maybe there was a boy in her residence hall that Lauren had already introduced to them to. Maybe her parents assumed that they were dating. Maybe…
“We met in women’s studies class, and we have the same lunch break. So we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
Arielle snapped back to attention. Lauren had taken the lead. That was something, wasn’t it?
“Good thing, too,” Arielle said, “because I am not going back to that kickboxing class. It was good, but I’m not going back.”
“You’re teaching kickboxing?” Lauren’s mom pushed an eyebrow up. “I thought it was karate. Or at least Muay thai.”
“Mom, you know that was never my thing. I—whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m a freshman, and I’m lucky they let me teach any class.” There was a certain finality to Lauren’s words, a way she nodded her head curtly and looked to the ground, that seemed to communicate to her parents that the conversation was over. At least for now. “Anyway,” she said, “Arielle’s kidding. She is coming back to my kickboxing class.”
“No way,” Arielle laughed, her heart beating a mile a minute. “I was hopeless. A total wreck. It’s not as easy as Lauren makes it look, learning where to put your feet and when and how to turn your belly button to the floor, and where to start your punch. Way too much for me to remember. Not to mention that anything remotely related to exercise is a recipe for total disaster to me. Regardless, it means Lauren is genuinely a wonderful teacher for her to have gotten the position. She’s really amazing.”
Arielle couldn’t help it. When she said the last sentence, her eyes drifted to Lauren’s, filled with a hundred thoughts, emotions, and most of all, questions. Watching Lauren’s eyes flare, her smile grow to a grin, and her chin tuck to her chest until she could get it back under control, was all the encouragement she needed. This was something more than a kiss in the rain, than hands sliding down hips when they had a good excuse. It had to be.
Suddenly Lauren looked up at her mom. “Didn’t you guys need to stop at the bank? There’s one right there,” she said, brushing her dad’s forearm and smiling up at him with the most obvious ‘Daddy’s little girl’ expression that Arielle had ever seen. But, damn her, she found it absolutely adorable. Maybe it was the curve of Lauren’s butt under her long skirt, maybe it was the dimple that looked like she’d pulled it out just for her dad. And it totally worked, too. “I’ll wait for you here. I have some plans to figure out with Arielle for tomorrow anyway.”
Had she just admitted that they were going out? Were they going out? Would Lauren say the same thing about her friends? Arielle would, but her parents knew everything about her friends, including which of them she liked more than friends.
Back home they had, anyway.
But Arielle knew one thing for sure. Lauren’s parents crossed the street to the ATM and she became enchanted by the way Lauren’s perfectly straight teeth bit
her smooth, glossed bottom lip. She couldn’t let this girl slip away from her because she was assuming the worst. She wasn’t going to let Rachel, or the memory of how badly Rachel had mangled her every emotion, take something new, something so potentially amazing, away from her.
“They’re in this weekend because they’re going to be out of town for Thanksgiving,” Lauren explained. “They won’t get to see me then, so they said they wanted to see me now. I think it’s been good for them. Especially Dad.”
Arielle soaked up every word. Lauren was close to her dad, much more than her mom. They were out of town for Thanksgiving, which meant Lauren wouldn’t be in California for Thanksgiving. Where would she be? Would she stay here, like Harry Potter at Hogwarts for Christmas? She looked so pretty with a pea coat on. How would she react if Arielle touched her hair? So many disjointed thoughts flew around in her head, but added up to nothing. So Arielle just said the first coherent thing she could manage: “Can I see you tonight? I…I’ve been hoping I’d see you. I mean…ever since…you know…I didn’t want to wait until class to see you again.”
Lauren’s mouth crinkled up, turned down in one corner. “They’re here till tomorrow morning. I’m supposed to give them a tour of campus, and then they’re taking me out to dinner.”
Everything in Arielle screamed “I could come too! I love dinner! Let me be part of your life!” but then the memory of how quickly and how hard she’d fallen head over heels for Rachel arrested her thoughts. Hanging out at Rachel’s house, letting her mom see how in love she was. Making plans—big plans. Meeting parents, hanging out with parents, was something that happened after like three months in most normal relationships. Three months of normal-relationship stuff, which included, but was certainly not limited to, making out pressed up against the brick wall of your dorm room. Hopefully many more times.
So she gave an understanding smile and said, “Okay. Well, it was good to—”
“But Sunday,” Lauren rushed in. “Sunday, I could…I mean, we could…hang out, or whatever. If you wanted to.”
“Sunday as in tomorrow,” Arielle said.
Lauren shot a glance over her shoulder. Her parents were making their way back across the street. “Tomorrow,” she said, stepping forward and crushing Arielle in a hug without warning. She was so warm, so soft. Smelled so damn good. “I don’t want to wait until next week either,” Lauren said low in her ear, tickling Arielle’s ear with her breath and sending her heart into a tailspin of palpitations again.
Then, as quickly as she hugged her, Lauren stepped back.
“Everything set, girls?” Lauren’s mom said, clearly trying to be casual, but looking between them for information at the same time.
“Yep,” they said at the same time, and Lauren giggled when they did. God, she was so freaking adorable.
But Arielle knew that she couldn’t keep staring, because this could get really awkward really fast. She forced her feet to move, one at a time, turning away from Lauren and heading back down to the cafe, where, thank God, at least she could talk to a Society member about the worlds of important things that had just happened in the last two minutes.
“See you then,” Arielle called back over her shoulder, remembering at the last second to add, “Great to meet you!” and a short, totally lame wave to Lauren’s parents. She forced herself to focus on not letting her feet step on each other, so she wouldn’t fall on her face, make Lauren rush over, and start the whole goodbye awkwardness all over again.
Arielle hadn’t even realized how cold it was outside until she got back into the warmth of the cafe, and slumped into the booth. Rion’s eyes turned into saucers as she leaned back to take Arielle in. “Whoa there, lady. What is this Lauren person doing to you?”
A huge breath whooshed, letting relief in. “She’s just…I mean she’s so…” There was the goofy grin again. “If you met her, you’d get it.”
Rion snorted. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
“You would! She’s so gorgeous, and she’s funny, she’s so smart, and it’s like she gets me, you know?”
“And she has a hot ass, I assume?”
“And she smells amazing,” Arielle concluded, slumping moonily to the side and leaning her head against the wall.
“Jesus Christ, you have it bad,” Rion said, shaking her head.
“We’ll see,” Arielle replied, still in a dreamland where she was imagining feeling Lauren’s lips against hers again, almost felt her hands clutch at the soft curve of her waist.
“Remember your promise, okay? I mean, Jesus, Ari. After what that bitch Rachel did to you, you just really need to make sure…”
“Lauren’s not in the closet.” But even as Arielle said it, snippets of the last two times they’d spoken replayed in her mind. Lauren might not be in the closet, but between having a recent relationship with a guy, not kissing Arielle hello when she’d just seen her, and a couple of other, minuscule, almost not worth mentioning things? She definitely wasn’t out, either. “Well, not totally in. And high school is, like, half a country away.”
“Yeah, and less than half a year away,” Rion said, turning a serious look on Arielle. “If she was fucking a guy mere months ago…I don’t know. It makes me nervous.”
“I don’t know how long ago she did…you know…all of that.” Arielle sat upright again, her buzz effectively killed, and started stacking silverware on their empty dishes. “Whatever. It’s just the beginning. It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.” Not yet.
“Exactly. It’s still early. So let me be your parachute, okay Casanova? It’s a Society duty. You helped me, I helped you.”
“Helped you how? Serving as an audience while you publicly humiliated your boyfriend?”
Rion smirked and shook her head. “Literally nothing is true about that sentence. But yes. You are looking out for me with Crash, so I’m looking out for you with Miss Pretty Perfume Shop. Okay? I trust you one hundred percent to tell me if you see Crash getting trashed, with beer, pot, or otherwise. Or see any sign of it. Or, hell, even smell it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.”
“So I want you to trust me to tell you if I see you getting in over your head with a girl who isn’t even sure if she likes girls. And I know she made out with you, and I know she’s sweet, but it was the same story with that fucking bitch Rachel. That’s all I’m saying. If your heart gets broken, it’s my fault. Society Rules.”
Arielle grabbed her bag and stood up. “Society Rules,” she repeated, nodding a genuine smile at Rion. “But I really think it’ll be okay.” She threw down a twenty for the bill and tip, and headed for the door.
“Are you going to do anything to figure her out? Or are you just going to fall so deeply into the tar pit of love with a maybe-lesbian before you figure out just how sure she is?”
Arielle held the door and Rion ducked under her arm. Maybe her abrasiveness helped make up for her utterly teeny size.
“When I figure out the certified lesbian screening process, I’ll let you know,” Arielle mumbled as she walked against the kicking-up wind, head bowed down, back to Harrison. If only it were that easy.
“Well, that’s easy,” Amy said, her mouth distorted in that gaping frown that girls seemed to universally get when applying eyeliner. “Take her out on a date. Like, in public.”
Arielle stared at Amy in the bathroom mirror, where the three girls stood together late Sunday morning, with her eyebrow up.
“No, that won’t work,” Rion countered, smearing pink eyeshadow, which seemed to only look good on Rion, over her eyelids. “Because, whatever. Girls go out together all the time, friends or otherwise. That won’t tell her anything about Lauren’s pride status or whatever.”
“I wasn’t finished,” Amy said, starting in on the mascara. Arielle grinned. Maybe Amy didn’t notice that she’d become more assertive in the two months they’d been here, but it was obvious to anyone who spent enough time with her. There was a world of difference between the s
cared, innocent freshman who arrived at the door of empty Suite 17C and the girl getting ready for church, which was really a date, with a completely different guy than she’d imagined spending her college free time with.
“When you’re out with her, hold hands with her.”
Arielle raised an eyebrow. “So you want me to make the first move.”
Amy nodded. “Yes. Well, no. I mean, she kind of already did. She’s the one who kissed you, right?”
Arielle smiled. “Yeah.”
“Not only that,” Rion said, reaching for a tube of lipstick on the other side of their counter, “She chased after you. So maybe that’s like a mega first move.”
“Not in public, though,” Arielle whined, backing against the cool painted cinderblock that made up every wall in this place, it seemed. “She ran after me, but in a courtyard where nobody could see.”
“You’re overthinking it,” Amy said, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, Amy’s right. Besides, this is your test. You’re the one who’s Miss all lesbian all the time and whoever I date has to be too. It’s kind of your duty,” Rion said, pressing her lips together and doing a duck face in the mirror.
Rion had a point. Arielle had never seen anyone take more initiative with pre-screening guys to date than Rion. It was kind of admirable—and definitely something that would totally freak out a polite, non-confrontational Midwestern girl. How did they feel about confrontation in California? Did that even matter in this context? “God, why do I know nothing about dating?” Arielle growled, pushing her fingers back through her hair and catching the curls on her fingers. “Goddamn hair.”
“It looks good,” Amy said, picking up some of her ruddy, stick straight strands between the tips of her fingers and glaring at them. “Mine is so flat it makes me crazy.”
“It looks like a rat’s nest. But thanks.”
“Just cut it off,” Rion mused. “It’s changed my life.” Rion had chopped all her hair off a few days ago, not seeming to think any more about it than she thought about brushing her teeth at night.
The Broken Hearts' Society of Suite 17C Page 22