by Cara Malone
“That might be a world record,” Alex said. “We should call Guinness.”
“Nah, did you see how ruthless the lady working the table next to us was? I’m sure she had way more gaggers,” Megan said.
“Well, there’s always the next outbreak,” Alex said, laughing with Megan in a way that started in her belly and expanded until her sides ached and she felt herself losing control. She hadn’t laughed that deeply or that freely in ages, and when it finally subsided, Alex sighed and looked across the table at Megan. She was incredible.
“What?” Megan asked, noting Alex’s changed expression.
“I had a lot of fun with you today,” she said. “More fun than I was expecting to have swabbing a bunch of teenagers’ throats.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Megan asked.
Alex shrugged and said, “I don’t want to just be friends with you.”
“Yeah,” Megan said with a sympathetic smile. “I am pretty irresistible, aren’t I?”
Alex laughed and said, “Thanks for ruining the moment. I’m better now.”
Megan laughed, but Alex couldn’t let the moment fade away. She had to say something, so she blurted, “I’m tapering off my meds.”
“You are?” Megan asked, surprised.
“Yeah,” Alex said. “It’s kind of a long process, but in a couple of weeks they’ll be out of my system completely.”
“You’re not doing it for me, are you?” Megan asked, looking down at her plate and pushing her food around self-consciously.
“Kind of, yeah,” Alex said. “I mean, not just for you, but because of you. You’re the first person who has made me want to not be numb in a very long time.”
“That’s good,” Megan said, smiling, but Alex could see guardedness in her eyes. When she tried to reach across the table to touch Megan’s hand, she drew it away and said, “I would make a terrible girlfriend. I’m always studying and the truth of the matter is that for the next few years, medical school has to come first in my life.”
“I don’t mind coming second,” Alex said, and then the scandalized look that Megan shot her made her blush instantly. She’d stumbled into yet another innuendo and Megan never missed the opportunity to tease her about them.
“Good to know,” she said. “But I just can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Megan said.
“Is this about your last breakup?” Alex asked, remembering what Megan had said in the coffee shop. That felt like ages ago, and on the other hand, they hadn’t been able to keep up the ‘just friends’ charade for very long at all before they came back around to this point. It had only been a couple of weeks, and they were both still holding each other at arm’s length, but Alex could tell there was something worth trying for between them. “Because I’m not her.”
“That only makes it worse,” Megan said. “It would be like adding one more casualty to the tally.”
“You know not all breakups have to be ugly, right?” Alex asked. Then with a laugh, she tried to lighten the mood. “And you know we’re not officially dating, right? It’s like you’re running through our eventual breakup before we’re even together.”
“Let’s just say that I don’t trust myself when it comes to heartbreak,” Megan said. “Can we leave it at that?”
“For now,” Alex said. “You want dessert?”
They ordered coffee and slices of pie—cherry for Alex, peach crumble for Megan—and while they watched their waitress go over to the dessert case beside the cash registers and serve up their selections, they fell back into easy conversation. Alex resisted the urge to tell Megan about the goopy mess of freeze-dried survival food that the Home Shopping Network considered a peach cobbler, but she did entertain her with a list of the top ten most ridiculous things her mother had purchased in the last year (Glitter hair stamps. Ceramic clown figurines. Squatty potty.). If she couldn’t laugh about it, then surely she’d cry.
While they ate their pie, Megan said, “How about we make a deal?”
“What kind of deal?” Alex asked.
“You’re right about the friendship thing,” Megan answered. “It’s not going to work. We’re both far too hot and amazing to maintain a platonic relationship. But I don’t know if either one of us is really relationship material at this point in time.”
“I guess that’s fair,” Alex said. She didn’t really like where Megan was headed, but at least she wasn’t suggesting that they never see each other again, which was what she’d been afraid of after their coffee shop date. “What do you propose?”
“I think we should just keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Megan said. “Texting, meeting up when our schedules are free—just light and flirty. We’ll go slow for you, and casual for me.”
“Well, I don’t know about light,” Alex said. “We’re both kind of dark and twisty people, it seems.”
“You’re right,” Megan said with a laugh, and then she reached across the table to take Alex’s hand, kissing the back of it and shooting her a smile that sent sudden desire between Alex’s thighs.
Nineteen
Alex could still feel Megan’s electricity running through her when she got home. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed and enjoyed herself like that, let alone the last time she felt this way about a girl. The last time she was carefree enough to have a day like this would have been freshman year of college, and that seemed like a lifetime ago. There was something unique about Megan, and the way she made Alex feel. Whenever they were in a room together, everything else seemed to fade away—everything except Megan was unimportant, and Alex liked that feeling very much.
When she went into her house, she found it oddly silent.
It was the first time in ages that the Home Shopping Network wasn’t droning from the living room. She peeked her head in and found the couch empty, and for a second, Alex felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her first thought was that her mother must be sick, or hurt. For over a year, she hadn’t moved from the couch except to go to the bathroom, the kitchen, or bed, and even then she liked to use the smaller television on her dresser as a white noise machine.
Then Alex saw a note addressed to her on the coffee table. She picked it up.
Went to the post office, be back around five. Call my cell if you want me to pick up anything for dinner.
Mom
Alex didn’t know what to make of this at first—it was such a mundane thing to say, so normal after more than twelve months of arrested development. Her mother was at the post office and she was going to pick up dinner. Huh. After a moment of contemplation, Alex set the note down where she’d found it and went into her room. It was a big step forward for her mom, and Alex was glad that the talk they had the other night appeared to have done some good.
She closed her bedroom door and collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. She let her thoughts run back to Megan, and to their conversation at the diner. Alex hadn’t laughed so hard in years, and even though it was the kind of laughter that danced on the edge of tears, threatening to spill over if the wrong word was said, it felt good.
It felt nice to have her emotions back, and to be experiencing such pleasurable ones thanks to Megan. Alex thought about the call room, and how nice it had been to feel close to someone, even if she knew the pills were keeping her at arm’s length from the world.
She’d been tapering off them for a little while, though, and she wondered if she’d gotten enough of the meds out of her system yet. The house would be empty for at least another twenty minutes by the time her mother fought through the rush hour traffic.
She rolled onto her stomach and slid one hand under the waistband of her jeans, closing her eyes and bringing up the image of Megan’s face, her green eyes, those plump lips, the curves of her body. Alex moved her hips up and down against her hand and imagined what it would be like to make love to her. Even the thought made her blush after so long suppressing those feelings, but she persi
sted.
She pictured Megan laying in the bed with her, their limbs entwined and their bodies moving together. She imagined what it would feel like to slowly undress her, savoring every inch of flesh as she peeled Megan’s clothes away. She recalled the softness of Megan’s lips, and—rubbing her fingers more urgently against herself—she remembered the way Megan’s mouth had closed around her and her tongue had glided softly over her.
Alex imagined doing the same to Megan, sliding down to the end of the bed and hooking her arms beneath Megan’s knees to bury her face between her thighs. With the thought of sliding her fingers through Megan’s wetness, Alex turned her face to moan into the bedsheets and continued to move her hips in time with her fantasy.
She’d stay between Megan’s thighs as long as she could—days, weeks, if that’s what she wanted—and when she was satisfied, Alex would wrap her arms around Megan, guiding her hand between her legs.
Alex pressed her face more firmly into the sheets, her hips moving insistently against her palm. She replayed the image of Megan’s hand sliding between her legs again and again in her mind, and she kept moving her hips even though she was beginning to feel out of breath. She was so close, just a few strokes away from climax, and yet it kept evading her.
When she heard the garage door opening in the distance, Alex pulled her hand away and muttered into the sheets, “Fuck.”
Breathing heavy and feeling frustrated, she went into the bathroom to wash up and look at herself in the mirror, brushing the wrinkles out of her clothes and running a comb through her hair. The pills clearly hadn’t worn off yet, and as she went to greet her mother, she tried to push away the nagging fear that she might have lost that part of her forever.
Twenty
Megan felt conflicted after the day she spent with Alex, swabbing teenagers and getting to know her in the diner. It had been a fantastic day, perfectly balanced between medicine and flirtation, but she wondered what impression she’d left Alex with when they parted. Megan had told her that they would go slow and keep things casual, but she wasn’t sure if that was a promise she could keep.
How could they go slow and have days like that without developing feelings for each other? And how could they keep things casual while still going slow? It was a contradiction in terms, and the more Megan thought about it, the more clear it became that the two of them were looking for very different things. She didn’t know how to reconcile that, and she also knew that she’d become too invested in Alex to just walk away.
After all, they’d agreed to be friends and that had only lasted a few days before it was clear that friendship was not on the table. But neither was anything else, between Megan’s demanding schedule, her determination not to open her heart to the possibility of a relationship, and Alex’s need to go slow and ease back into the world.
Megan went to bed that night with a stupid grin on her face, thinking about how much fun she’d had with Alex and pushing away the doubts and reservations she felt as she closed her eyes and drifted into dreams of chestnut-haired beauties with soft lips and laughs that made Megan’s heart leap for joy.
She was just laying Alex down on her bed, gently guiding her onto the mattress and holding her close, when she heard her bedroom door creak open behind her. Because Megan’s dream self was just as pragmatic as she was in her waking life, she called over her shoulder, “Chloe, a little privacy please,” and kept her eyes locked on Alex.
She waited impatiently for the door to click shut again—Chloe had never invaded her space before, it was so unlike her—but Megan didn’t hear the latch, and Alex was beginning to look alarmed. Her eyes were fixed on a point over Megan’s shoulder, and she was curling up on the bed, drawing her knees protectively to her chest.
“What’s wrong?” Megan asked her, but before Alex could answer, she heard the sobbing behind her.
Megan turned around and saw Ruby, or rather, a grotesque nightmare version of her ex-girlfriend. Where in real life she was tall and athletic, her smooth skin and curly hair her best features, now she was gaunt and frail-looking. Her hair looked brittle and unwashed, her cheeks were sunken like she’d been starving, and mascara streaked down her cheeks in long black rivers.
“This is what you did to me,” Ruby said, her voice wavering as she spoke. “This is what I became after you destroyed me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Megan said, her excuse sounding weak even to her own ears. “I was just scared—”
“I was scared, too,” Ruby screeched, making Megan and Alex both wince, and then suddenly her hand shot out, reaching for Megan.
She felt her heart stop momentarily in her chest and she stepped back, out of Ruby’s reach. When her pulse caught up to her, she felt silly for the terror that had flooded her in that moment. She’d been with Ruby for six years, and they were friends all through elementary school before that. And now she was afraid of her just because of a little streaky mascara and sunken cheeks?
“I know I hurt you,” Megan said, changing her tactic. She glanced down at Alex, who was staring wide-eyed from Megan to Ruby and back again, and knew she had to diffuse this situation. “Ru-Ru, I’m sorry. I could see the end of our relationship looming and I thought it would be less painful if it ended abruptly, no lingering or trying to make things work. I didn’t have the courage to stick around and do it the right way, and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
Tears were streaming down her own cheeks now, and the next time that Ruby swung her arm out, making a swipe for the front of Megan’s shirt, she stepped backward again and tripped on the bed, falling backward onto the mattress with a yelp. She scrambled up to the head of the bed, where Alex was still curled up, and tried to put her arms around her.
“No,” Alex said, pushing Megan away. “You’re not doing that to me, too.”
She crawled off the bed and ducked under Ruby’s extended arm, heading straight for the bedroom door and slamming it on her way out. Ruby was sobbing loudly and Megan opened her mouth to scream in frustration—
And she jolted awake, her sheets wet with perspiration and her bedroom dark. It was the middle of the night, and it took her a moment to orient herself in her room, alone in bed. What she’d done to Ruby was never going to stop haunting her.
For the next few weeks, though, Megan and Alex were true to their word. Despite all the things weighing on Megan’s mind about why their arrangement couldn’t work, she managed to keep things light and casual. The fact that they both had busy class schedules probably helped, meaning that the majority of their interactions took place through text messages during the day.
They got coffee or a quick meal in between classes sometimes, and once they’d attempted to study together. Alex suggested it, saying that since they both had a lot of studying to do every night they could make their own little study group, and they’d met at the café with their backpacks full of homework. That was the first and only time they tried to study together, because they started by chatting over coffee, and four hours later they were still talking and neither one of them had taken so much as a textbook out of their backpacks.
So they set boundaries, resisting the urge to text each other at certain hours that they’d designated as study times. Megan was dead serious about maintaining her class rank and keeping it higher than Ivy’s, and Alex had a lot of memorizing and practicing to do if she was going to pass her EMT certification exam in just a few short months.
And in all the free moments of her day, Megan thought about Alex. She either thought about her, or thought about how she really ought not to be thinking so much about that girl. It scared her how close they were getting, how much Alex knew about her and how much Megan looked forward to their time together.
Then one day in late October, Megan came back to the apartment after class to find Chloe sitting on the couch and pouting.
“Hey Chlo,” Megan said as she came in and tossed her backpack on the floor by the door. “Whatcha doing?”
“Looking at airfare price
s,” she said with a sigh. “It’s almost not worth going home for Thanksgiving, especially when all I get for a four hundred-dollar flight is a couple days of my relatives asking me when I’m going to find a husband.”
Megan let out an involuntary snort, then asked with a little more sympathy, “You’re not out to your family yet?”
“Sort of. I’m out to my immediate family, but I can’t really expect my eighty-year-old nana to remember I like girls instead of boys, and it seems like an awkward thing to announce to the aunts and uncles I only see a few times a year,” Chloe said. She seemed more serious than usual, her tone lacking its usual chipper quality, and it was no fun to tease her when she was upset, so Megan sat down on the couch to lend a sympathetic ear instead. Chloe said, “It would be so much easier if I had a girlfriend to bring home, though. More fun, too.”
She glanced up at Megan, and was that a slight raise of her eyebrows as they locked eyes?
“And more money for the flight,” Megan pointed out.
“That’s true,” Chloe said, closing her laptop and putting it on the coffee table. With a sigh, she added, “It’s like they forget that I’m in med school, like I’m nothing more than a single woman, and all they can focus on is when I’m going to find a nice man. What about you? Does your family bug you about being single at the holidays?”
“Well, my little brother bugs me in general,” Megan said, laughing. “But I guess my parents would be happy if I settled down.”
She thought about Alex, and for the first time she wondered if Alex had told her mother about her. In Alex’s head, were they dating? They certainly hadn’t had that talk, but Megan could admit that it was a weird situation to try to explain—more than friends, less than girlfriends, and sadly, not lovers. Megan had chosen to deal with the issue by avoiding it—she hadn’t brought Alex to the apartment, Chloe didn’t know about her, and her parents definitely didn’t know about her. The only person who knew was Ivy, and that was only because she was such a nosy jerk.
