“These are my favorites,” Lauren said in an even quieter voice than was typical for her. “I got them before my last growth spurt, so they should be perfect for you.”
Arielle should have made a joke about her height. Instead, her heart just sped up at the realization that Lauren had noticed it at all. Just another thing to add to the list that made Arielle think that maybe, just maybe, Lauren had been checking her out just as much as she’d been memorizing every curve and angle of Lauren’s body.
Arielle laughed lightly, breathlessly, but couldn’t smile. She had to step back to put on the pants, and she hated moving away from Lauren, but standing there staring at her while pantsless wasn’t really an option. The cotton was soft, worn, speaking of a million quiet, relaxed moments in Lauren’s life that Arielle was now connected to. Arielle pulled herself back to full height and spoke again.
“I’ll give them back,” she managed.
“I know,” Lauren said, still looking at her steadily, with the slightest tilt of her head, and the touch of a smile. Like looking at Arielle was the only thing she really wanted to be doing at that moment.
And damn her, Arielle felt exactly the same way.
Then Lauren reached up to the towel wrapped around her head, and Arielle’s eyes skimmed down from Lauren’s eyes, to her lips, then back again. Her skin was flawless, begging to be touched by Arielle’s trembling fingers. But she was still frozen, waiting for something she doubted would happen, yet was desperately hoping for. Lauren’s hair tumbled in heavy wet strands over her shoulders, smelling like pear and adding one more layer to her scent.
“Your hair is still wet,” Lauren said, in an even quieter voice this time. She took another half step toward Arielle, then lifted the towel and reached down, pulling it around her back and wrapping it around her hair. She knew Lauren was wrong. It wasn’t wet, not even close to dripping. Maybe the top layer looked damp. But the feeling of Lauren’s thumbs grazing against her neck, her pinkies brushing her temples, was too consuming for Arielle to spend an ounce of energy on anything else, even protesting Lauren’s unnecessary closeness. Not that she would want to.
After a few seconds, Arielle felt the towel graze heavy against her shoulder blades, then heard it slump to the floor. She didn’t break eye contact with Lauren—couldn’t pull herself away from the dancing light of her eyes. Lauren amazingly, terrifyingly, didn’t pull her hands away from Arielle’s face. She just let them skim down, fingertips light against her jaw, then her neck. Then, for a split second, her collarbone.
Arielle’s breath was broken, quiet gasps. Something shattered out in the hallway, followed by a voice yelling, “Shit” and that was the one thing that tore her eyes away from Lauren. And when she did, over Lauren’s shoulder, she saw a corkboard studded with photographs. One near the middle was of Lauren standing with some guy. The fact that he was kissing her on the cheek wouldn’t have been the biggest problem, if his hand hadn’t been obviously wrapped around her waist, skimming under her cropped shirt, fingertips pushed beneath the waistband.
Air rushed into Arielle’s lungs faster than she thought possible, and the spell was broken. Every muscle tensed, every nerve was on edge, as she went into autopilot mode—focus on your backpack, get to the door, get the hell out of there. It briefly occurred to her that she was running away from this girl for the second time in one night, and that the drama factor of this relationship was seriously high, but she didn’t even care.
What kind of a horrible person clearly tried to kiss you when she knew you were gay and she was, or had been, in a relationship with a guy? Judging by that picture, Lauren was straight as a fucking ruler.
Arielle tried to talk herself down, but it was no use. Her emotions made her feet move, even though logical thoughts fought against them: She could be bi. There’s nothing wrong with a bi girl. Except I said that I’d only date an out-and-proud lesbian. And I stand by that. I think.
Mercifully, the elevator opened within seconds, and Arielle slammed her palm against the “door close” button, resting her head on her forearm against the wall and letting a miserable, tinny buzz fill her ears, slowly but surely blocking out everything else.
October meant that it got darker outside every minute, and she’d been up in Lauren’s room for at least fifteen. The sky was a velvety navy, not a single cloud, the stars beginning to poke dim pinholes in the expanse above. Arielle glanced up for reference—Crawford was only two buildings from her own, the new freshman dorms built to hide the once-shining facade of the twenty-year-old ones. The result of zoning codes was a secluded courtyard between them, which was empty of students now because of the rain, lit only by a yellowish street lamp.
Arielle briefly thought of what Matt had said about campus at night, and vowed never to come this way again. Based on how epically she’d failed at that kickboxing class, it wasn’t a safe bet that she could take anyone down, no matter how threatened her life was.
Hell, she couldn’t even keep herself away from a girl who was so obviously straight, it should have slapped her in the face. Instead, she’d pushed it away, seeing only the signals that might mean that Lauren liked her, no matter how obvious it should have been.
The rain was coming a little harder now, the drops growing bigger as the sky darkened. Arielle squinted at the back of Harrison tower, hoping she wouldn’t have to leave the courtyard, go all the way around the new wing, and enter through the official entrance, made of shining plate-glass. Every time she walked into Harrison she felt like she was on display from all angles—the courtyard in front, the person working the desk, anyone who was watching the huge TV or cooking in the little kitchen.
And in her five weeks on campus, she’d never looked or felt worse than she did at this moment. The thought startled her—she’d always thought she’d never feel worse than when Rachel smashed her heart into teeny tiny pieces in front of half the student body.
Was it possible for a girl she’d never really kissed, and certainly never loved, to make her hurt this much?
She was so close to the building now, and lifted her eyes to see a heavy metal door, like those in the back of shops for unloading merchandise, with a long bar to push in and open it. Arielle hustled to reach it in a few more steps, pushed her forearm flush against the bar, and pushed her whole body into it.
And was met with only hard resistance. The goddamn door was locked.
It was only then that she realized that she was crying. Again. Jesus, what was wrong with her? Lauren was just a girl. Just one, stupid straight girl who was really friendly and really sweet and really, really goddamn beautiful. She was no different than any of the other girls at her high school who didn’t mind being touchy with each other, said “I love you,” all the time, and yeah, once in awhile wanted to experiment with kissing another girl.
But Arielle had never put up with that, and here, in the chilly rain with big fat tears running down her cheeks, stuck in a courtyard and unable to move her aching quads a step further, she knew one thing more than ever—she was going to stick with her Society pact if it killed her. No more making out with, or falling head over heels for, girls who didn’t even really know if they were gay or straight.
She held back a whimper when she thought about dodging Lauren after class every day for the rest of the semester. It would be really damn tough. Arielle angrily swiped at one more tear, looked up, and realized that, no, it would be impossible. Because Lauren was jogging toward her, keys dangling from one arm, another pushed up under her boobs. Long black hair laying in limp ropes down the front of Arielle’s hoodie, the one she’d left in a stinky clump on Lauren’s floor.
“Arielle! Oh my God. You have got to stop running away from me like that.”
“Well, actually, that was kind of the plan.” Arielle laughed ruefully when Lauren got within earshot. She didn’t give a shit now. She had to find some way, any way, to make this less painful.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” Lauren said brea
thlessly, swiping some wetness off her forehead, maddeningly adding nothing else to the thought.
Arielle stood and took her in, feeling the heaving of her own chest. She tried to come up with something that would cut ties and explain to Lauren that they couldn’t hang out. But all that was shot to hell when Arielle saw the tears welling at the bottom of Lauren’s eyes. She stepped forward, wanting so badly to stretch her arms out, stand on her tiptoes, and squeeze Lauren tight to her.
“No, listen. It’s my fault. Here’s the thing,” Arielle said, blinking against the rain, which was somehow less important than getting these words out, right here, right now. “You know I had a bad breakup when I got here. With my ex-girlfriend.”
Lauren swallowed and nodded, listening.
“Well, it was because she didn’t want her sorority sisters to know about me. Didn’t want them to know that she was gay,” Arielle continued, watching Lauren’s expression turn down even more. Somehow, Lauren felt Arielle’s pain as it spilled out of her mouth. A part of her melted as she went on. “Anyway, my roommates and I…I promised them…promised myself…that I would never date anyone…never fall for anyone,” she said, turning her eyes to her shoes when she said the last bit, “who wasn’t one hundred percent sure. Anyone who wasn’t proud that they were gay, anyone that wasn’t out. You know? Because then…I couldn’t get hurt that way again. I guess.”
Lauren took in a sharp breath, like something had whacked her in the chest. Then she nodded, slowly. “Also because you deserve better than that. That was shit,” she finished with a whisper.
“Yeah, it was.” Arielle’s tears were starting to come back, too. Somehow, it hurt even worse that Lauren knew exactly why she’d run away. Because what she was really saying was, “Yes, Ari, you matter. You deserve so much.” Which sucked, because all Arielle wanted was Lauren.
“Anyway, I saw that picture of you with that guy.”
Lauren’s brows pulled up, her head tilted toward her shoulder. “What …?”
“On your bulletin board,” Arielle’s voice lowered. “He has his arm around you, he’s kissing you?”
“Oh, him? Oh my God. Arielle. He’s…he was my boyfriend.”
Arielle’s heart sank. She knew it.
“We went through a lot together—a whole lot. We’re still really good friends. And for some stupid reason that’s the only picture I have of him that’s actually printed off. But I swear, we are not together. Haven’t been for a long time.”
A million thoughts warred in Arielle’s head. What Lauren had just said didn’t change anything. She still wasn’t saying, ‘Yes, I’m gay, here’s my lesbian membership card.’ She had dated a guy. Maybe even loved him. Maybe slept with him. How could she be gay? How could this ever end well? Arielle opened her mouth, hoping that something would come to her to say, but nothing did.
But then, Lauren started to talk again. “Look. I’m only eighteen. I’ve been with a couple guys, and yeah, we kissed. Yeah, I even told one of them I loved him.”
Arielle pressed her lips together, shook her head, looked away. There was no way she could handle this conversation for a second longer. “Yeah, I get it, okay? It’s fine. You’re straight. I’m not. The end.” Arielle knew she should add, “We can still be friends,” or “We can still study together,” but that wasn’t true. Best case scenario, she’d be able to avoid obsessing over Lauren for the rest of the classes of the semester. Maybe get a new hobby, inside, in the dark. Where her ridiculous hormones couldn’t’ be unleashed on anyone else.
“But listen. Arielle.”
Goddammit, there was something about hearing Lauren say her name with so much force behind it that made her want to melt into a puddle there in the dimming courtyard. Arielle locked eyes with her, summoning every ounce of bravery so that, this time, she wouldn’t run away. She would listen first, then leave.
Lauren swallowed, her face twisted into a desperate look. “I don’t know why I would run after you without shoes or a bra on, but it has to be because I like you. I may not be able to scream from the rooftops that I’m a lesbian, but I do know I really, really want to kiss you. More than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone. Ever.”
Lauren’s words were like a match to Arielle’s soaked-in-kerosene heart. Her chest burned, and she pulled her head up, suddenly brave, maybe even careless. As she stepped up to Lauren and pushed her fingers through the hair at the back of her head, tangled and wet and smelling absolutely delicious, she only knew one thing. She felt exactly the same way. But she forced herself to ask one more thing. “So is this the first time? You’ve ever wanted to kiss a girl?”
“It’s the first time. But I seriously doubt it’ll be the last.” Lauren’s breath caught as she leaned down, and Arielle’s did the same as she pulled herself closer to Lauren, begging herself not to lose this fire. Because this would be the most awkward run-away of all. Then it became impossible, because Lauren’s hands cradled her head once again, her fingers playing at Arielle’s stringy curls like they were something treasured. It was all so surreal, being this close to Lauren, fulfilling the fantasy she’d had for weeks, nearly having the chance to taste her. Between her twisting belly, her pounding heart, and her absolute desperation to press her lips to Lauren’s, there was absolutely no way she could walk away now.
So she didn’t. She closed the gap, brushing her lips against Lauren’s, nearly wild with the flawless soft skin, igniting a hundred points of electricity in her own, coated by a cool dampness that only made her want to push in for more, harder, faster, deeper. Anything to stop the absolute insanity of the feeling rushing through her. She’d known she was attracted, she’d known she’d had a crush—she didn’t know that nothing she’d ever felt before would compare to kissing Lauren.
Nothing. Not even kissing Rachel.
The realization slammed into her chest like a ton of bricks, stunning her with surprise, then filling her with gratitude. Whatever this girl was—gay, straight, bi, the devil in disguise—she was filling an empty place inside Arielle that had been empty for a long time. Even with Rachel.
And then—oh, God—Lauren’s fingers ran back through her hair, and then her lips were hard on Arielle’s, buzzing with the slightest of whimpers from deep in Lauren’s throat, setting every nerve in Arielle’s body on edge. So she moved one hand to Lauren’s jaw and another down to her waist, groaning when she gripped the toned curve that molded so perfectly to her palm. Lauren pressed her stomach against Arielle’s, solid warmth against soft curves, the touch Arielle had been craving since that first lunch they’d had together. Everything else, even the freezing rain, went away. Arielle parted her lips and traced her tongue, for the barest of seconds, over Lauren’s bottom lip, which brought another, slightly strangled noise from Lauren as she flicked her tongue out to taste Arielle’s.
Arielle’s thoughts were lost in the complete wonder of holding Lauren, kissing her like she meant it, finally being able to do what she’d wanted to for so many weeks. Lost thoughts meant lost fear, only the complete and total wonder of being wrapped up in Lauren’s smell, her taste, her touch.
Finally, after Arielle thought her heart would beat out of her chest, she set her heels back on the ground, breaking contact, slowly dropping her hands. She watched Lauren, examined the way her eyes slowly fluttered back open, memorized the sound of her slightly ragged breathing. Her eyes met Arielle’s and a smile tugged at her lips. Lauren blinked, and let out a breathy, “Wow.”
Arielle gave a little laugh, suddenly overtaken by the intensity of the moment, and dragged her toe against the ground. “Yeah,” she chuckled.
Lauren’s hands had fallen to her sides, too, but now one of them reached out, brushed the inside of Arielle’s pinky so gently it could have been a dream. Arielle’s fingers twitched to grab on, hold onto this moment. But she knew what had to happen next so completely, so deeply, that she wouldn’t do anything to stand in the way of it. She froze. Waited. Maybe even prayed.
“Will you�
�I mean, can we…I mean, I really…” Lauren stuttered and blew out a breath. “Dammit.”
“It’s okay,” Arielle said, pulling the tips of Lauren’s fingers ever so slightly with hers. “That was …”
“I want to know you better. I want to spend time with you. I can’t really explain it, but I just want to be with you more. I don’t want to break your rules or whatever, but I…I don’t want to let whatever that was go.”
Arielle’s heart screamed a million things it could have been: Lust, love, hunger, need, desperation, pure hormones. But only one word kept running over and over through her brain. It was right.
So she laced her fingers with Lauren’s, pushed up on her toes, and brushed a kiss, light as a whisper, at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t either,” she said, forcing herself to let go of Lauren’s hand. She’d started to shiver, and knew they couldn’t stand out in the rain forever. She also knew that if she actually went home with Lauren, or took Lauren home with her, things might go too far, too fast for either of them. “I should get back inside,” she said.
“I guess I should too,” Lauren said, her face uncertain, flicking around the dark courtyard.
“The door’s just around the corner. I’m in Harrison.”
The sounds of chatter from a group of girls drifted into the courtyard. “There’s the gaggle from floor 5,” Lauren laughed. “I’ll follow them back,” she said, starting to step away. “Since it’s getting dark. See you next week, I guess?”
Shit, their next class wasn’t till next week? “I …” Don’t make yourself look crazy, Arielle. “Yeah. That’s perfect,” she smiled. Then Lauren was gone, hustling off toward the street-lamp-lit sidewalk. Arielle wrapped her arms tight around herself, put her head down, and walked around to the front of her building, feeling her grin grow wider with each step.
Even though Arielle knew that this might be breaking the promise she’d made to the Society and to herself, she tried to hold the doubt at a distance. No, Lauren wasn’t an out-and-proud lesbian, but she also wasn’t straight. And they weren’t a couple, exactly, they were just two girls who’d kissed once. And who’d implicitly planned to do it again.
The Broken Hearts' Society of Suite 17C Page 16
