by Siera Maley
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Siera Maley
Copyright © 2019 — Siera Maley
All rights reserved—No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the authors, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Published in Atlanta, GA.
www.sieramaley.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publications data is available upon request.
First Edition, 2019
1
I had my first kiss at twelve years old, in the dark closet of Chelsea McDaniel’s unfinished basement during her thirteenth birthday party.
Five years had passed since then and I could still close my eyes and remember every detail of my incredibly awkward sexual awakening just like it’d happened yesterday: the dry smell of the cement walls, the stereo blaring a song I’d spent the whole of the past winter trying to escape in PSY’s “Gangnam Style,” the dark brown leather furniture about a dozen of us situated ourselves upon as we waited for Gabriella Sanchez to draw two slips of paper out of a baseball cap she’d borrowed from one of the boys, and most importantly, the way my eventual kissing partner looked completely mortified when Gabby drew the first two slips and then exclaimed, “Chelsea and Zoey!”
There weren’t any calls for a redraw over us both being girls because by that time everyone knew that Chelsea liked girls anyway and I was too shy to complain, but there were scattered giggles as everyone watched Maria shove us both inside of the closet. She told us that the rules were that we had to kiss for seven minutes before we could come out, and then she slammed the door shut behind us so that we couldn’t see anything. The last glimpse I got of Chelsea was of her tucking a strand of her brunette hair behind her ear as her cheeks burned bright red and she looked anywhere but in my direction.
For a while, it was silent. And then, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her, she mumbled, “Um. We don’t actually have to do anything. It’s just a dumb game.” I didn’t have to see her to know that she was embarrassed and apologetic; it came through clearly in her voice.
I only knew Chelsea and her friends through a couple of shared classes and was surprised she’d invited me to her party in the first place. We were close enough to occasionally opt into the same groups for class projects, and once she’d made me a mixtape of songs from one of her favorite bands, but that was as far as our friendship extended, if it could even be called that. I knew she liked the same kind of movies I did and that she collected rare coins and played soccer for our school team, but that was about it. I hadn’t even known what to get her for her birthday.
As dumb as it sounded now that I was older and wiser, the lack of a proper birthday gift was honestly part of the reason my twelve-year-old self agreed to kiss her. Some combination of guilt, curiosity, and plain old peer pressure from the group waiting outside had me clearing my throat and rushing to tell her, “It’s okay. I don’t care. I mean…I don’t mind.” My religious parents would have a fit if they knew I was even considering kissing a girl, but it wasn’t like I’d ever have to tell them.
There was another long silence, like Chelsea was trying to process what I’d said. “You don’t mind what?” she finally asked.
“If you wanted to…” I trailed off. I realized I looked uncomfortable and rushed to correct my expression, worried I would hurt her feelings. Then I remembered that she couldn’t see me.
“Do you want to?”
That was a question I didn’t want to consider the answer to. I thought that Chelsea was pretty and nice, but I’d never thought about kissing her before. I’d never thought about kissing anyone before, really. “If you want to.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s your birthday.” I told myself that I was agreeing so quickly because I wanted to put an end to the awkwardness and just get it over with. I decided it’d be good practice for when my real first kiss happened with a boy. It’d take about four and a half more years before I let myself look back on it a little differently. “We can do whatever you want.”
I heard her shuffle forward, and her hand brushed my elbow, found my arm, and then gently gripped my wrist. I tried not to shiver.
“Not…whatever you want,” I corrected hastily, realizing how that probably sounded. “That’d be weird.” She laughed and it shocked me how close she suddenly was. I could feel her breath on my face. I shut my eyes tightly and heard my heart thudding in my ears.
“Yeah, I know.” There was a pause. “Have you done this before?”
I shook my head, then remembered she still couldn’t see me. “No.”
“Okay. Me either.” She giggled a little, audibly more nervous now. “Sorry if it’s bad.”
Her other hand was warm on my face and her lips were warmer. She kissed the corner of my mouth first on accident and breathed out a quick laugh, then moved so close I could feel the heat from her body. This time she didn’t miss my lips.
She was gentle and tasted like strawberry lip gloss. My hands fumbled for something to grasp and eventually settled uncertainly on her hips, which she seemed to like because after that, she pressed in closer and kissed me harder, over and over again. I inhaled the dizzying scent of her shampoo and counted to five before my brain short-circuited entirely.
I never did kiss that boy.
“Prom sucks.”
“Don’t be such a cynic.” Skylar glanced over her shoulder to shoot me a look of disapproval from where she sat on a stool, midway through pinning her blonde hair up on top of her head. “It’s your own fault you didn’t bother to get a date.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually rope me into going.”
I laid back on her bed as I watched her get ready. She scoffed at my reflection in the mirror and rolled her blue eyes. Normally they’d be framed by a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, but not tonight. Not on Prom night, when she had a date to impress. “Who else was I gonna hang out with?” she asked me. “It’s not like Alex and Wes love me right now.”
“At least they still talk to you.”
“That doesn’t stop Alex from acting like I chose you over her.”
“You kinda did.”
“Well, someone had to. Besides, you’re my best friend, warts and all.”
I sighed, annoyed that she’d brought up my ex-best friends in the first place. Last fall there’d been four of us, and we’d been inseparable. Then I’d screwed everything up, and now I was lucky I had any friends left at all. I was sure I was only still in Skylar’s good graces because she’d felt too sorry for me to leave me totally friendless heading into our final months of high school. “Why don’t you just hang out with your date? You’re picking her up in like an hour. You don’t need me.”
“You already bought a ticket. Hurry up and finish your makeup. And sit up; I worked hard on your hair and you’re ruining it.”
I grumbled a complaint and moved to follow orders. Skylar had been all about Prom for the past two months, ever since she’d started seeing a girl from our rival high school. Between Skylar and me, we’d pretty much exhausted the few options at our own school, th
ough Skylar would somewhat accurately argue that that was on me, not her. After Alex and I had ended things around last Thanksgiving, there’d been several…well, I liked to call them “encounters”. Skylar liked to call them “Zoey ruining her chances of ever finding a long-term girlfriend within a fifteen-mile radius”.
“So I finally get to meet the girl you never shut up about tonight,” I pointed out, trying to make conversation as I pulled out my eyeliner. “What’s her name again? Carrie? Katie?”
“Chelsea!” Skylar corrected, annoyed. “And if I talk about her so much, how come you can’t remember her name?”
I didn’t answer. Back when I’d first heard about Skylar’s new crush, it’d taken me about ten seconds to connect that the Chelsea she would spend the better part of two months obsessing over was the same Chelsea I’d gone to middle school with and had once made out with in a basement closet. It just didn’t seem like the best idea to tell Skylar that. She’d only sought out girls from another high school in the first place to try to avoid dating anyone I’d already been out with, and it wasn’t like the kiss held any sort of significance beyond giving me my first hint that I liked girls. Chelsea and I had never spoken about it ever again and drifted apart even before the school district lines had been redrawn and we left for different high schools.
“Is she hot?” I asked, grinning.
“For the last time, yes. Is that all you care about? You never ask about what she’s into.”
“Oh, I think I know what she’s into.” I wiggled my eyebrows at Skylar and she rolled her eyes again. Her cheeks grew pink.
“For the record, we’re taking things slower than you think we are. But tonight I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend, and when she says yes, I have a key to a hotel room for the night.”
“Damn. Get it, girl.” I finished applying mascara, gave myself a quick once-over, and then returned to the bed. “So that’s why you’re making me take a second car. Are you nervous?”
“A little.” She shot me a curious look. “It doesn’t, like…hurt, or anything, right?”
I snorted. “What? With a girl? Are you serious? Not unless she’s part wolverine.”
“Well, it’s not like I’d know!”
“The only pain you’ll feel is the emotional scar it leaves when ending what was supposed to be a casual hookup ruins your friendship forever.” I pressed a hand to my chest and paused for dramatic effect. “Oh, wait. That was just me and Alex.”
“I heard she and Wes are going to the dance together tonight.”
“Shocking.”
“I really didn’t think they’d last,” mused Skylar. “It kinda seemed like she only agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place to make you jealous. Which was honestly a pretty weird decision considering the, uh…complicated circumstances.”
I snorted. “Complicated? Pfft. What’s complicated? You’ve got four best friends, two of them decide to fool around, one gets too attached, the other rationally tries to end it before things get too serious, and then it all goes to hell, and a few months later you get Alex and Wes. Tale as old as time, really.”
“You really should stop using humor as a coping mechanism when your terrible decisions screw your life up.” Skylar spun around on her stool and gestured to her face. “How do I look?”
“If I hadn’t already learned my lesson about sleeping with my friends…” I started, winking at her, and she glared at me and moved away.
“See? No wonder you don’t have a date; you never let anyone know what you’re really thinking. I don’t know how Alex put up with you for the month you two snuck around.” She swiveled around again briefly to point an accusing finger at me. “Which I still haven’t forgiven either of you for, by the way! I can’t believe neither of you bothered to tell me!”
“It didn’t mean anything,” I muttered.
“Yeah, you made that clear afterward,” Skylar said under her breath.
I glared at her. “Do we really have to rehash this again? I’m already gonna have to deal with her tonight. She harasses me anytime we wind up in the same room and it usually ends badly for both of us.”
“Maybe she’ll just want to dance and have a nice time with Wes.” I scoffed and Skylar wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I didn’t really believe myself, either.” She got to her feet and looked at her reflection one last time. “Okay. Game plan: We have my parents take pictures of us downstairs, and then you drive to the dance in your car. I take the rental along with my brother and his date to go pick up Chelsea, the five of us meet up at the dance, and if we’re lucky, you avoid Alex and Wes entirely.”
“And then you and Chelsea borrow my car for the hotel and I grab a ride back to my place with your brother,” I finished proudly.
“That too.” Skylar’s cheeks looked a little pink again, and I smirked at her. “Don’t make fun of me,” she warned.
“I’m not. It’s cute. You really like her.”
“Yeah.” Skylar looked almost wistful. “She’s kind of perfect. And so cool. And her best friends are great, too. They’re—”
“A couple, yeah, I know,” I remembered. “You told me. Gays of a feather flock together and all.”
“You’re gonna like her,” Skylar promised. “You guys have a lot in common.”
“I’m sure I will.” I offered her my hand, palm-down, and joked, “Alright, ‘Prom sucks’ on three!”
“No,” Skylar replied dryly, shaking her head at me. I let my hand fall to my side lamely, disappointed, and she added, “Just be ready to meet her.” Then she grabbed my hand to pull me out of her bedroom. “And smile for the pictures!”
Whoever’d overseen the Prom theme this year had gone full aquatic, complete with a slow-spinning papier-mâché dolphin that hung from the center of the ceiling. I sat alone at one of the tables next to the dance floor, drinking punch and watching the rotating dolphin without bothering to hide my boredom. Some EDM song was blaring from a speaker ten feet away, making it impossible for me to hear anything over the music, and several couples and groups of friends were making fools of themselves on the dance floor. I wondered, for a moment, if I’d have been just like them provided I hadn’t lost two-thirds of my best friends in one fell swoop last fall.
The thing with Alex was more complicated than I’d made it out to be. Skylar believed last fall had been the beginning of a whole new me: a me that—when it came to girls, at least—had suddenly swung from one extreme to another. I’d been shy and reserved, barely able to acknowledge my own sexuality and spending far too long fearing the wrath of my parents. Now I was out, and I definitely didn’t let my parents stop me from going after whatever or whoever I wanted.
To Skylar—and everyone else—Alex was not only the beneficiary of me finally getting the courage to be myself, but also the start of a pattern; the first casualty of my debauchery. And so, I was both a horrible person for leading on a friend with genuine feelings for me and the girl who didn’t “do” relationships.
The truth was a little more complex, but Wes and I were the only ones who knew that, and it wasn’t like either of us would ever tell. So I was left as the resident lesbian school slut—a title which, to be honest, I had somewhat leaned into in the months following Alex and I’s pseudo-breakup—and with Alex hating me for using her.
Wes went wherever Alex went, given that they’d been friends since Kindergarten, but Skylar, forever my loyal best friend—or at least since freshman year, anyway—had stuck by me and done her best to play mediator. Thus, here I was, alone on Prom night and watching a dolphin instead of dancing, when all that I really wanted was for things to go back to the way they used to be, back before Alex and I had ever kissed.
I sighed to myself and checked my phone, wondering when Skylar and the others were going to show up. Over half an hour had passed and they still weren’t here. Maybe Chelsea’d had a wardrobe malfunction.
I’d had a lot of time to try to figure out how I was going to broach the whole issue of already k
nowing my best friend’s soon-to-be girlfriend. I’d never had any social media profiles growing up because my parents thought they were a “hotbed of cyberbullying,” so as far as I knew, there was no evidence online that I’d ever known her. And I’d already lied by omission to Skylar anyway. It was probably best to just keep her in the dark forever.
There was really no point in just going, “Oh, by the way, you know that girl you’re borderline in love with and plan on losing your virginity to? The girl you found after specifically seeking out girls I hadn’t already gotten to first? Well, joke’s on you; she and I were each other’s first kisses!”
Skylar still hadn’t completely forgiven me for the second-worst thing I’d ever done: hooking up with a girl she liked during my post-Alex phase of peak promiscuity last semester—so she definitely wouldn’t react well to the truth about Chelsea. Tonight, I just had to convey to Chelsea somehow that we weren’t supposed to know each other, and then spend the rest of my life hoping Skylar never asked her where she’d gone to middle school. It wasn’t exactly a foolproof plan, but it had worked for the past two months.
What would hopefully be the last EDM song of the night faded out, replaced by a slower, more intimate tune, and couples began pairing off on the dance floor. I spotted Alex and Wes and stared, both relieved that they hadn’t noticed me yet and a little sickened by the sight of them pressed close to each other. She was still so beautiful, and he still looked like a perpetually kicked puppy. It was hard to hate either of them, despite the things they’d said and done, but what little hope I had that we’d ever be friends again just wasn’t rational. I’d practically ripped Alex’s heart out and curb-stomped it. She’d spent months refusing to hear me out, and even Skylar’s pleas hadn’t changed her mind.