Girl Crush

by Stephie Walls

  “Why do you park in the driveway?” My mind hopped from rabbit trail to rabbit trail if it wasn’t occupied.

  He shrugged. “It’s easier to get to there.”

  “Aren’t you worried about it getting damaged by the weather? Someone stealing it? Egging it?” I gave him an evil grin at that last suggestion.

  “It’s just a car, but if I find egg shells, I’ll know who to question.”

  “That car costs more than most people’s houses.” I followed him inside.

  “Meaning what?”

  “That you should care more about what happens to it.”

  “Why? It’s not like I’m going to get rid of it if it gets scratched or has a ding.”

  I couldn’t figure out his angle. “So why invest in a car worth that much money if you don’t care about its wellbeing?”

  “It’s not a person, Giselle. And it’s fun to drive.” He plopped down on the couch in the same spot his sister’s pooty had rubbed against the leather the first night I’d been here.

  My face must have contorted in some odd expression, because he tilted his head and asked, “What’s that look for?”

  It would be far more fun to fuck with him than try to play it off. My brow lifted, scrunching my forehead and exaggerating the lines I tried desperately to hide, and the corners of my lips pulled back in a contorted grimace as if to say, “Ummm. You don’t want to know.”

  He stood so fast he lost his balance. “Aww, fuck. What the hell did you two do here?”

  I couldn’t stop laughing. Clearly, he was distraught by the thought of his sister and me performing some deviant act on his leather sofa. I refused to answer and opted for uncontrollable laughter instead.

  “Jesus. This is Italian leather.” He turned to stare at the couch, although I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “Just tell me this…do I need to have it cleaned?”

  “I guess that depends on how close you and your sister really are.”

  “Giselle. This isn’t funny.”

  “It’s a little funny.”

  “Fine, you sit in whatever it is.”

  I plopped down on the spot he was now afraid of to wait for Beck.

  After several long minutes of silence, he couldn’t stop his obsession. “Seriously, Giselle. Tell me what you two did on my couch.”

  I waved him off and rolled my eyes. “Nothing. We ate ice cream.”

  “Is that code for something else?”

  “Yeah, West. We covered each other in Ben & Jerry’s and licked it off before it dripped on the sofa.” I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “I swear to God nothing happened between your sister and me. Ever.”

  “Were you the rebound girl?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this with Collier, but since Beck hadn’t shown up, and I was sitting on his couch in his living room, I didn’t think I had much of a choice but to answer his questions.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it. Obviously, she wanted to be with Stella. I think she was just lonely when we met.”

  “Were you?” He’d settled into the corner of the sectional and propped his feet up. His eyes were soft, and his features relaxed. This was the side of West I liked to be around.

  “Lonely?”

  He nodded.

  “Umm. I wouldn’t say lonely. I mean, I have friends and a job.”

  “So how’d you end up meeting Beck?”

  This was embarrassing. “Does it matter?” I didn’t want to admit to using an online dating site.

  “Nah, I don’t guess so. So you’re cool with being her friend and her being with Stella?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl like you. You dig cars, I hear you’re a fan of roller derby, you’re easy on the eyes, drink like a fish and cuss like a sailor, and can hang with the guys like you’re one of them. Why do unicorns have to be lesbians?”

  I needed to change the subject before I ended up spilling my guts. “Can I drive your car?”

  “No.” He hadn’t even given it the slightest bit of consideration.

  “Why not?” I screeched in a girlish fashion.

  “Because you wear heels and girls grind the clutch.”

  “I’ll take the heels off. And what girl ground your clutch?”

  “Are we talking about the car or was that a metaphor for the lack of a woman in my life?”

  I ignored his comment. “I can handle a stick. I’ve never had a man complain, and I’ve certainly never ground one’s gears.” Somehow, I’d shut him up, but I hadn’t intended to. “Please, Collier.”

  “No. And stop calling me Collier. It’s too formal.”

  I wanted to drive that car. And if I had to play dirty to get to, I would.

  “West…” I purred his name in his direction. “Is that better?” My voice had dropped half an octave and taken on a sultry tone.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. But he didn’t nod or answer. The green in his eyes took on a golden hue and warmed. If I had to guess, I’d bet he was aroused, but since he thought I chased ponytails instead of crew cuts, there was no way he’d respond.

  I crawled toward him on the couch, my cleavage slightly exposed. My shorts were short when I stood, so when crawling, they barely covered my panties. “West,” I repeated his name, but this time, it was like a whisper of warm wind. The closer I got, the more he tensed. Slowly, I’d managed to crawl up the length of his body on his oversized couch and now hovered over him, straddling his waist with my knees, my hands on either side of his head. The vein on the side of his neck strummed a healthy beat visible under the skin. He waited for me to make my next move.

  I leaned down, placing my lips so close to his ear they brushed it when I begged, “Please.”

  At the sound of his sister bursting through the front door, he grabbed my hips with both hands, lifted me off the couch, and placed me on the floor. His face was flush, and I saw him adjust himself from the corner of my eyes when I turned to say hello to Beck.

  I left West on the couch to deal with whatever was going on in his pants and followed his sister to her room. We spent the rest of the afternoon discussing my lesbian debacle and how to overcome my fear of women.

  “Try men.”

  She was no more help than Ronnie would have been, but at least she’d only made one crack about my inability to become a lesbian. Although, it was followed by a comment regarding her brother’s interest—which I ignored.

  7

  My dating debacles seemed to bring all the women in my life together. Somehow, through no fault of my own, Veronica, Trish, Beck, Stella, and Roxie had all formed an alliance against my sexuality. One would think lesbians would welcome other women into their tribe, encourage them to explore the nether lips, embrace the love of estrogen—not my friends. The more time I spent with them, the closer we all became, which was great, except they’d united in a plight to return me to the heterosexual dating pool. I felt cheated, unwanted. I threatened to call the LGBTQ Human Alliance about their discrimination, to which they all found great humor.

  As the weeks went by, I quit discussing my dating gaffes with any of them. There was no point—they just made fun of me. It hadn’t mattered who I’d gone out with—and at this point, there had been a plethora of female companions—I couldn’t get past the first kiss. The instant the foreplay got to be too much, I totally flaked out. I couldn’t get past the fascination of staring at another female and not averting my gaze, which in turn, freaked out the women I hadn’t bothered to tell this was all new to me. But even after weeks of botched attempts, I refused to throw in the towel and return to men.

  I’d decided to slow my roll, jumping straight into meeting hadn’t worked, being upfront about my lack of experience had backfired, trying to be friends first had only gotten me more friends, but that’s where my plan came to a grinding halt. I didn’t want a relationship. I wasn’t interested in commitment. At this point, I hadn’t had an org
asm, self-induced or otherwise, since that night on the dance floor with Roxie. But instead of a full-court press, I decided to invest heavily in a stash of Duracell batteries and take my time seeking my next girly encounter.

  Just like my male-dating experiences, when I quit looking, what seemed to be perfection reached out to me through some site I hadn’t realized or hadn’t remembered that I’d signed up for. Heather. The instant I finished reading her email, it dawned on me that maybe I shouldn’t have been trying to find someone to show me the ropes, and instead, found someone like me—wet behind the ears. I reread her email several times before responding to ensure I’d understood, but to be on the safe side, I just admitted in my response I had no real history of dating women. Then I asked if she was interested in embarking on this together—fumbling through the experience might be easier with someone else who’d had sausage but had gone kosher and now sought seafood.

  She was just as apprehensive as I was, unsure of all the things that changed when you made the switch. Heather wasn’t in a hurry to meet up, and she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She just wanted to play, explore. She hadn’t been burned by men—she’d been bored with them. I clapped and bounced around on my couch reading what seemed to be our hundredth exchange. Even through the written words, I could sense her sarcasm and laidback personality, but we wrote back and forth for weeks before actually exchanging phone numbers.

  When we started texting, it was like having a dirty secret…one that was fun and arousing, but I wasn’t ready to share with anyone else. I’d been talking to her all day but knew I was about to have to cut the conversation short. I’d promised Beck I’d come over to hang out by the pool. She had invited all of us, including Roxie. I loved when we all got together, but I knew I would have to hide my phone and sneak messages to Heather or face the firing squad.

  Ronnie and Trish had offered to pick me up on their way, but I wasn’t a fan of not having an escape route if I got ready to leave, so I chose to drive myself. My heart sank just a bit when I pulled up in front of Beck’s house, and the familiar red 911 wasn’t parked in the driveway. I hadn’t expected him to be here, but after the near drowning incident, Collier and I had exchanged pleasantries on the regular via text. Sometimes they verged on flirtatious, but mostly, they were just friendly. I pushed the disappointment aside, refusing to admit that his attention meant anything other than he was Beck’s twin, and she’d fast become one of my closest friends.

  Everyone was out by the pool when I arrived and had already started drinking. It was a good thing West wasn’t here—he’d be pissed off at the giddy, girl chatter in his backyard. There was a hitch in my step when I realized there was a new addition to our clan. The redhead was retro-chic and “with” Roxie. It reminded me of the first night we’d gone to the roller derby. I shoved off the twinge of jealousy I felt and then bypassed the unease that tugged at my stomach when it dawned on me that I was now the seventh wheel on the Lesbo-Express.

  I settled on a chair nestled within the group and stripped down to my suit and laid out my towel, still not having been introduced to the newest clan member at Tribal Council.

  “Damn, Giselle. Is that dental floss?” Beck’s voice was louder than it needed to be to address the six other people sitting within spitting distance.

  Still standing, I glanced down at my navy-blue bikini. “It’s new, do you like it?”

  “Where’s the rest of it?” Beck was hardly one for modesty.

  “It’s not that skimpy.” I shrugged. “I don’t want visible tan lines.” Beck exaggerated how risqué the suit really was. It covered all my bits and pieces, but it highlighted my assets as well.

  “Were you hoping this wasn’t an all-girl gathering?” Ronnie raised her brows at me in question. She’d been pushing the West card harder and harder the longer my dry spell continued.

  “Or maybe I was hoping to catch the interest of one of you panty pleasers.” I gave my best friend a grimace mixed with a sarcastic scowl. Just to drive home the possibility, I bent over seductively, with my ass facing the house and my cleavage on full display for my friends. I used my biceps to squeeze my melons together just slightly to show them just what they were missing.

  When they all started laughing under their breath, I shook what the good Lord gave me, and put my ass on my towel. Before I lay down, I reached over Roxie and held out my hand to the stranger. “I’m Giselle. It’s nice to meet you, even though these heifers are too rude to properly introduce anyone.”

  Her laughter rang out in the air, and I was temporarily stunned by the distinct sound of a hyena having taken up near the pool. “I’m Amy.” The girl’s voice was totally normal, but I hoped like hell that laugh had been created from nerves and wasn’t here to stay. Otherwise, Roxie and I were going to have to talk. “Roxie’s girlfriend.”

  My heart shouldn’t have sunk. My shoulders had no reason to slump. My stomach had no right to revolt. Jealousy was a twisted bitch, but I couldn’t figure out why I was envious. I didn’t want my friends to be single, and I had no interest in any of them romantically, but that green-eyed monster reared its head just the same, and I had to fight against it being visible to anyone else.

  “Nice to meet you. How’d you and Roxie meet?” I didn’t wait for her to respond before lowering my dark glasses onto my nose to hide my emotions and settled onto my back in the sun.

  “Roller derby.”

  Sucker punch to the gut. That was our thing. Not our thing, but our thing. I couldn’t believe Roxie had gone without me. I tried to think back through the schedule but couldn’t remember a single bout I’d missed since Roxie had taken me on our second date. Which meant, Roxie had met her with me there. It shouldn’t matter. Roxie and I were friends—friends could pick up dates when they were out together—so it wasn’t against the code.

  “I ran into her at the concession stand a few weeks ago.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was a tad hurt by the fact she hadn’t mentioned she’d met someone in all the times we’d hung out, but maybe this was a new development. Or maybe I was just jealous that all these women seemed to have found perfect companions, and I still flew solo.

  The conversation flowed around me, and I settled in to absorb the vitamin D. My phone kept going off in my bag, and I struggled not to reach for it to see who it was. I figured it would be Heather, and I didn’t want to answer questions from my clan about another female in my life. When they all seemed engrossed in something other than paying attention to me, I went for a quick peek.

  “Who’s that, Gizzy?” Fucking Veronica.

  My face flushed with heat which I hoped was masked by the sun I’d gotten all afternoon. “No one.” I should have lied. My best friend saw right through me.

  “No one’s been blowing you up for the last two hours?” She snatched my cell from my hand and ran with it.

  There was no point in trying to retrieve it, that would only serve to make me look guiltier than I already felt.

  “So who’s Heather?” She cocked her tan hip out to the side and put a beautifully manicured hand on it while holding the phone out to show me the screen…as if I wasn’t aware of what was on it. The color of her nails was stunning, but I refrained from asking about it and just answered her question.

  “Just a friend.”

  “Then why are you hiding her?”

  At that point, I got up and snatched my phone from Ronnie’s fingers knowing all eyes were on me…like I owed them all some sort of explanation. “I’m not hiding her. I’m just not subjecting her to the likes of you guys.” I gave her an eat-shit look and resumed my spot on my towel.

  “I thought you’d given up on women?” Beck’s expression was one of confusion.

  “No…I gave up on men. I quit discussing women with all of you since you seemed hell bent on preventing my conversion.”

  “That’s because you can’t convert to lesbianism, Giselle, not because we aren’t trying to be supportive. It isn’t a religion you decid
e to believe in one day.” Trish had morphed into this protective mama bear of sorts ever since we’d called a truce.

  I knew their intentions were well meant, but none of them had bothered to stop to think I was serious about this and try to help me. It had all been a joke to them. Admittedly, things hadn’t gone all that well with the opposite sex, and I was slightly repulsed by punani, but I was equally turned off by men. Maybe I should become asexual—or rubbersexual since the only action I got these days came in the form of a battery-operated toy.

  “She’s just a friend, you guys. We haven’t even met. All we do is text and talk on the phone. Just like I do with you whores. No different. I’m not sniffing her panties or making out with her under the bleachers.” The huff I let out indicated my irritation, and Beck picked up on it quickly.

  Forever the peacemaker, she quickly tried to change the subject. “Are you guys hungry? What’s everyone in the mood for? I’ll order and have it delivered, so no one has to get up.”

  They all agreed on food; I opted for a salad. I wasn’t interested in pounding out more miles on the pavement than I was already committed to in the morning. And when Beck brought out the beer, I passed on it, too. I might be approaching the dreaded F word, but I wasn’t there yet, and I’d be damn sure when I reached my next birthday, my body didn’t look it. Age was only a number, and I fought hard against it.

  The food had shown up less than thirty minutes before the wrath of Collier, or Brutus. I’d been rather quiet all afternoon, but the rest of the group was in full mingle mode when the beast erupted. I saw him come through the patio doors and could tell by the look on his face he was pissed.

  “Goddammit, Beck. How many times do I have to tell you not to use my fucking credit cards for stupid shit?”

  I’d heard this argument before, and it hadn’t gone well the last time. I didn’t expect any better this time.

  “Oh, lighten up, West. It was just dinner. It was less than a hundred bucks.” She waved him off in dismissal, which only served to rile him further.

  “If it’s only a hundred dollars, then why don’t you get off your lazy ass and make the money you so freely spend and stop blowing mine? Wasn’t that your deal with Stella? You were going to get a job and start acting like an adult. When does that adult part happen?”