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Girl Crush

Page 14

by Stephie Walls


  I gave in and told her my contact information. Instantly, my pocket buzzed with her message.

  “We’re good to go. I’ll hit you up this weekend, and we can all go out Friday night.”

  Apparently, I conceded to her request. Roma took my hand in hers, and we walked back to the front where we’d last seen Collier. He was easy to spot. I couldn’t help but admire his solid form, and when he saw us, I instantly smiled. As we approached him, he didn’t look at Roma. His eyes locked onto mine and never left. The grin that ticked at the corners of his mouth almost made me weak in the knees. I wanted to fight against my body’s pull toward him. I loved spending time with him, adored having him as a friend—I refused to risk that for what would undoubtedly never happen…for countless reasons.

  Within arm’s reach, he leaned in to kiss Roma’s cheek. And then glanced at me. “So how’d it go?”

  Roma saved me from trying to figure out what to say. “Giselle seems like a great girl, but her eyes are set on someone else.” She winked at me.

  If I’d had anything in my mouth, I would have either spit it all over her or choked on it. Instead, my eyes went wide, and my head turned to face her. Roma leaned in to hug West and mouthed, tell him. I just shook my head, wondering what can of worms she’d opened.

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. I could use this opportunity to tell him the truth. She’d opened the door…I just had to walk through it.

  He didn’t say anything until we were back in the car and on the way home. I picked at my fingers and stared at my nail polish while we waited in traffic to get out of the parking lot. I let out a little chuckle when I realized the last color I’d used was “You Don’t Know Jacques!” How apropos.

  “What are you giggling about?”

  “My nail polish color.”

  Confusion washed over his face.

  “It’s just the name. It was funny. Ironic really. Never mind.” I attempted to wave it off with a gesture of my hand.

  An obnoxious driver cut me off once we were moving, and I cursed like the man could hear me, successfully derailing the conversation at hand…even if it was unintentional. Collier laughed at my outburst and started chatting about different cars we’d seen. The tension I was afraid would consume us washed away as quickly as I’d been cut off. As he yammered on about anything that crossed his mind, my thoughts wavered between the Collier I knew as Beck’s brother and the one I found myself increasingly attracted to. He was fast becoming a friend I wasn’t willing to sacrifice to the dating game, but I worried about my ability to set those feelings aside in favor of something platonic. I’d never had a male friend and hadn’t wanted any, but the more thought I put into this, the more tense I became.

  “Giselle?”

  We’d stopped in front of my house, and Collier leaned into the car while standing in the driveway. I remained lost in thought until he said my name louder.

  “Giselle? You okay?” Concern marred his features.

  “What?” I pulled myself back to the present. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. Just daydreaming.” I offered him a pitiful excuse for a smile, but he seemed to accept it without question. When I got out of the car, he stood at the front, waiting for me.

  “You feel like hanging out tonight, or do you have plans?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, anticipating my answer.

  Hanging out. That was guy code for friend zone. It was safe, no expectations. “Sure.” I’d gone into the fifth dimension and had to get my shit together before he realized I’d flaked. “Wanna watch porn? Go see some mud wrestling? Maybe a strip club?” I winked at him and walked to the front door to let us inside.

  “I was thinking more low-key like takeout and a movie, or we could go hang out at the pool at my house? But if you’re down for a strip club, by all means, don’t let me stand in your way. We could invite Parker and Mark, too.”

  I wondered how far into the land of lies I could possibly get myself before waging war. I’d just suggested every guy fantasy possible, and as a lesbian, they’d all appeal to me…if I were in fact attracted to tits and ass. Seeing Collier with other women was the fastest way to keep my appetite at bay, and laughing at his friends while they trolled for pootie would only help, but I was a jealous creature by nature and feared I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut or my feelings in check.

  “How about takeout by the pool with your friends?” It seemed like a safe compromise. There would be no way the two of us would be alone so no opportunity for me to throw myself at him shamelessly. And I could tease him with a skimpy swimsuit and eat up the attention…even if it was unspoken. His friends were brazen flirts, but the harmless kind, and I’d enjoyed them every time we’d hung out.

  He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me into his chest. The smell of sunshine and man radiated off him as I inhaled deeply, trying to memorize his scent. I wasn’t sure what to do with my arms, so they hung lifelessly by my side with my hands lightly on his waist. “Sounds perfect. I love that you’re like one of the guys.”

  Insert ice water to the ego here.

  I pushed away and told him I would go get my stuff and shook off his brotherly affection. When I returned, he’d contacted his friends who were in route, and made suggestions about takeout we could pick up on the way. After proposals for fried chicken, Italian food, and burgers—none of which I was willing to partake in—I finally told him to pick, and I’d figure something out.

  “Is it the meat thing?” He seemed confused over my unwillingness to make a decision on dinner.

  I hated this. Men never understood, and I sounded like a snob or a health fanatic. Neither of which were accurate. I rolled my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried my best to explain. “I try not to eat out much and avoid carbs altogether. I eat meat but not beef or pork.”

  “So you’re just a picky eater?” He laughed, which annoyed me.

  “No. I didn’t say I don’t like those things. They’re not healthy. If I have to choose between a vegetarian dish and running another mile in the morning, then I choose the healthier alternative hands down. And I will trade in food for a glass of wine every chance I get—well, in moderation.” I huffed, exasperated by my omission. “I’m almost out of my thirties, Collier.” I would not let the next decade roll from my lips. “And I have to fight the aging process.”

  “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and in my mind, I could hear Ronnie in my head, laughing at my immaturity.

  “Have you tried Greens? It’s a vegetarian place down on Altamont. We can swing in there.” He didn’t argue or give me a ration of shit.

  “What about your friends?”

  Collier shrugged before responding. “They’re all getting fat anyhow. They could stand to lose a few pounds.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door and escorted me to his car.

  “You’re so full of crap. None of them has even a hint of a weight problem. They’re going to be pissed.”

  “Not if you carry in the bags.” He roared with laughter at his devious plan. I would get to be the bad guy because none of them would say anything to me. “Watch, they’ll all tell you how much they love whatever you pick, too.”

  10

  Thursday morning, sitting at my desk while applying my latest OPI color, “The Berry Thought of You,” my phone buzzed with a message. Once again, I was tasked with holding down the vacant fort at the office with nothing to do. Texting with wet nails was tough to do as I attempted to press the letters with the pads of my fingers without touching the tips to the glass.

  Roma: Friday night at 8 pm. Bar None. Stella said to tell you to invite Roxie and Ronnie.

  I hadn’t heard from Roma since the car show and had hoped she’d forgotten about hanging out. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her; I didn’t want Collier finding out we’d done something and think it was more than friendship. But I liked Roma and knew we’d have a good time. My dating life had gone to shit, th
ere wasn’t a man or woman interested in me romantically, and I had nothing better to do.

  Me: Sounds good. Are we meeting there?

  Roma: Yep. See you then.

  I sent texts to Roxie and Ronnie who both jumped at the chance at a night out. Amy and Trish would tag along, and Beck and Stella would be there as well. Which left Roma and me. Truthfully, I was grateful to have another single woman to add to the pack. Yes, she was considerably younger than the rest of us, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t be the only one flying solo, the seventh-wheel—Roma evened out the group and kept me from hanging in the wind…even if it might further complicate things with Collier.

  The following day lingered, and I’d fallen asleep at my desk twice, only to be woken up by the phone ringing and drool on the corner of my mouth. Thankfully, no one had come into the office to find me catnapping. I really needed to be more driven. I was still in my thirties. Lots of people started new careers at my age. My eyes rolled, and I realized there wasn’t anything that interested me that was worth starting over somewhere else. I’d always loved that my job didn’t require late nights or weekends—I got to leave everything at the office—but recently, the lack of anything substantial in my life had started to make me second-guess that complacency…although, not enough to do anything about it.

  I locked up and left promptly at five o’clock and stopped by to see Mrs. Grobin to grab a bottle of wine before going home. Ronnie offered to pick me up, which meant I could have a glass of wine while I dressed. When I got home, I grabbed some leftover veggie salad out of the fridge, poured myself a glass of vino, and turned on the stereo. One glass turned into three, which I would regret tomorrow morning, but that didn’t matter right now.

  I opted for a shower since I had time to spare, and it would give my hair considerably more volume if it were clean and freshly blown out. The lavender scent of shampoo hung in the bathroom while I shaved my legs. And then again when I put on my favorite lotion before dressing. My attire was a debate—part of me wanted to go all out, dress for the scene, but the other part, the one that won, wanted to dress more casually…more my age. I opted for a mix of the two, leaning more toward comfort than fashion. I firmly believed a woman should never leave the house without looking her best—chance encounters could happen anywhere—but at the same time, hanging with seven lesbians would likely put a damper on any personal party I might have.

  Donning my favorite dark-wash skinny jeans, booties, and a loose sequin tank top, I’d be able to dance, relax, or draw attention—whichever the night called for. I went easy on the makeup, more natural than the heavier application for evenings, and rolled my hair into long, thick curls that hung midway down my back. Just before Ronnie barked at me from downstairs, I added a stack of thin bangles to my wrist and hooked a pair of chandelier earrings that matched to my ears.

  “Come on, Gizzy. We’re supposed to be there at eight.”

  I stomped heavily on the stairs. “Pull your panties out of your ass. I’m ready.”

  “I don’t have any panties on—Trish likes it better that way.” She winked at me, and I swallowed back the vomit. I loved them both but didn’t want to think about either of them naked. It would be like envisioning my mom in the buff. Just no. “Damn, you look fantastic. How much are you running these days? I’d swear you’ve lost weight.”

  “What have you done?” My hand met my hip that I cocked out to the side.

  “Nothing…”

  “Then why are you being nice?” I moved past her to the kitchen to grab my cell phone and keys before I tossed them into my purse.

  “I’m not being nice, I’m being honest. Are you on a diet?” She pulled her head back to take me in.

  “Stop.”

  “Just worried about you, Giz. I don’t want you wasting away on me. You’ve been kind of MIA the last few weeks. Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine, Veronica. I’m here anytime you want to come by.”

  That was only partially true. I’d been at Collier’s a good bit recently, but no one else knew that—except maybe Beck, if her brother had told her.

  “All right. Well, Trish is in the car, so let’s move. No need to start the night off with a bitch fest.”

  I stopped and stared at her. “Are you in the doghouse, again?”

  “I may or may not have stayed at Holden’s three times this week.”

  “The fact that your boss lets you shack up at his house when you and your girlfriend fight blows my mind. Doesn’t his wife care?”

  “Nah. She kind of made me my own room. Well, the guest room, but she decorated based on stuff I like and calls it mine. Speaking of Janelle, we should have called her to see if she wanted to join us.”

  “Isn’t she a little young to be hanging out with this crowd?”

  “She’d never escape without Holden anyhow. Now that she’s knocked up, he doesn’t let her out of his sight. I keep waiting for him to make her start working from the firm so he can keep an eye on her.”

  We got in the car after I locked the front door, and Trish appeared unusually chipper.

  “You look great, Giselle. All that running is paying off.”

  I didn’t know what these bitches were tripping on. I wasn’t running any more or less than I always had, and my diet hadn’t changed. My clothes fit just like normal. “Umm, thanks.”

  The two of them bickered back and forth about the apparent cause of Ronnie’s stay with Holden and Janelle. Twelve-hundred-dollar Christian Louboutin over-the-knee leather boots. V was lucky it had only taken Trish three days.

  “You didn’t seem to mind when I showed up to bed with nothing else on but those boots you’ve continuously bitched about.” Ronnie never knew when to shut up.

  “That was before I realized we could have made a house payment instead of adorning your feet.”

  “It’s not like we can’t afford them. Why do you care?” I could hear the pout in Ronnie’s voice from the back seat.

  “Because we’re never going to have a baby if you don’t stop spending money!”

  Whoa. That was not something I’d expected to hear. Ronnie and I hadn’t talked the way we normally did in recent weeks, but this revelation warranted a phone call—she should have made time.

  “I need to enjoy them while I can. Do you have any idea what pregnancy will do to my body? Knee-high leather boots will find their way to the back of the closet when the stretch marks take over.”

  I didn’t have a clue what was going on and didn’t think I should interject to find out. I wasn’t sure how two lesbians went about having a baby, but before I could stop myself, the words fell out of my mouth. “How the hell do lesbians get pregnant?” I was totally confused.

  “Sex or a turkey baster.” Ronnie’s clipped response marked her agitation, but I still wasn’t clear on the issue.

  “Which would you two do? Isn’t in vitro really expensive?”

  “We have a donor.” I couldn’t see Trish’s face, but I could hear the happiness in her voice.

  “She wants to farm me out to have sex with some guy.”

  My head whipped from side to side, following the bickering banter between the two of them in front of me. If I weren’t careful, I might strain a muscle in my neck.

  “He’s not some guy. I’ve known him most of my life. Chase has an incredible gene pool.”

  “Too bad I like pussy and not dick, Trish. I’m not interested in having Chase impregnate me through traditional methods to save a buck.”

  “Then quit spending money like it’s fucking water, and you won’t have to fuck him.”

  We’d pulled into the parking lot at Bar None, and I couldn’t get out of that car fast enough. The two of them had serious issues, and I’d have to get the details from Ronnie when her other half wasn’t around.

  Thankfully, Roxie, Amy, Beck, and Stella were all waiting at the door, talking to the bouncer, when we strolled up. I tried to wipe the vexed expression from my face and offer them a smile. “Hey,
guys. Where’s Roma?”

  “Already inside,” Beck answered and then opened the door for us to all pile in.

  The place was packed for it to be this early on a Friday night, and the crowd that was typically filled with people in their late twenties seemed to have matured to the mid-thirties. Surely it hadn’t been that long since I’d been here that the entire customer base changed.

  Roma dragged my attention away from the patrons when she called my name. “Giselle, over here.”

  She looked like sex in heels. My mouth watered at the thought of hooking up with her—she was single. I was single—she had a dugout that matched my own. And I quickly reminded myself, I needed a bat, not a glove, regardless of how pretty she was, or the fact that she could make straight women pant, she couldn’t drive it out of the park without anything to swing.

  The moment I set my purse on the high-top Roma had secured for our group, Ronnie and Trish started up again about a baby and pregnancy. No one else seemed at all shocked by the topic and even joined in supporting Trish. I’d entered the Twatlight Zone, and I needed to escape. The wine I’d consumed at home only served to dull my senses but not drown out the insanity coming from my best friend’s mouth.

  “Giselle, you look amazing. Jesus, I hope I’m in that great of shape at your age.”

  I pressed my lips together tightly and forced them in the direction of visual happiness, but the smile was strained. Roma was too young to understand my age was a touchy subject or how hard I fought the genetic time clock that ticked away on my face and body. Instead, I focused on the fact that all my friends had said nearly the same thing upon seeing me. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, and it was more than the fish between these hoochies’ legs.

  My hands went up in animation. It happened every time I got riled up. I couldn’t help it—I was a hand talker. “What the hell is going on?”

 

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