Me and Her (Always Her, Book 2): Lesbian Romance

by Alexandra Delancey

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Elaine just had a bad breakup, so I’ve had to spend lots of time with her,” I said. It wasn’t a total lie. Elaine and her douche-bag boyfriend were always on-again-off-again.

  “Ah, I’m sorry. I understand. But, please tell me these things in future? I hate us not being in each others’ lives.” I nodded.

  “So do I.”

  “Hey, it’s coming up to four years since dad died. I was thinking that we should commemorate it. I don’t know, maybe go back home?” I met her gaze. With dad being killed there, and the ugly memories of our mom’s life choices playing out there, neither of us had much love for our hometown. “Maybe it’s a stupid idea. Let’s think about it anyway?”

  “Ok,” I said, and squeezed her hand. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “I’m not scheduled to be working, so shall we hang out together? Do something nice?”

  “Yes, let’s,” she said, her face lighting up.

  I got out of bed, got ready and settled down to write the beginning of a paper on adolescent depression. It was going slowly. I was exhausted, not just from last night, but from all the nights I’d spent with Jack. I hadn’t been sleeping well at all with her. I would never have let her know, but I was still in awe of her. I cracked jokes all the time to hide my awkwardness, so she probably thought I was relaxed about being with her, but I was constantly worried that I’d say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, and this amazing thing, that I’d never thought would happen, would be over before it had begun. So I was too tense to fall into a deep sleep, in case I snored like an elephant, or did something weird. I’d often lie half-asleep for hours, listening to her slow breathing with envy. It’s always hard to sleep in an unfamiliar house too – all the creaks of the floorboards, the sound of her housemates coming in and out, talking to each other – and it left my brain on high alert. It seemed ironic that I’d been so much more relaxed when I was dating guys, precisely because I wasn’t trying to impress them. They always thought I was amazingly laid back, but it was all because I didn’t care.

  As I was finishing up the paltry 1,000 words I’d written, one of the restaurants I’d applied to called and offered me a trial shift that night. I said I couldn’t make it, or the following night either.

  “I could do tomorrow daytime though?” I said.

  “We’ll get back to you,” the guy replied, and cut the call. I sat staring at my phone for a while. Shit! I needed this job, but I already had my diner shift tonight, and there was no way I’d blow Melissa out tomorrow, after the conversation we’d had earlier. I could blow out the diner instead, with the inevitable result that I’d get fired, but if I didn’t pass the trial shift at the new place, then I’d end up having no job at all. All of a sudden, my head felt like the shell of a hard-boiled egg, being tapped all over by multiple obligations: school, work, my relationship with my sister, and Jack. And it sucked that I felt like this, when I should be happily walking off into the sunset in the relationship of my dreams.

  My phone beeped. It was time to head to class. I gathered up my stuff and left the apartment.

  *

  “What are you doing here?” Ben, the dishwasher, said, coming into the kitchen at Norma Jean’s.

  “Pretty much the same as you,” I replied. I was cutting up tomatoes, wearing an apron and a hairnet.

  “No!” he threw himself back against the door, his trademark expression of disbelief. “But why?”

  “Didn’t you hear? I had a really unfortunate incident, involving me throwing a whole tray of food over some customers, so I got told I was on kitchen duties only.”

  “You tripped on your skates?”

  “Yup, and the food went everywhere!” He snapped his fingers and cackled like a hyena.

  “Man, that’s fricking awesome, Elise. You’re killing me!” He bounded around the kitchen whooping, then returned to hold his hand out for a high-five. I slapped his palm limply.

  “Funny how everyone thinks this is hilarious, apart from me,” I said.

  “I guess stuff’s always funnier when it happens to someone else.” He said. Abruptly, he stopped jumping around, and reversed his trucker cap. “But seriously, you’re too beautiful to be back here. Look at your pretty blonde hair all stuck in that nasty thing.”

  “Ben, stop! And just show me where I can find a new jar of pickles, please!” I said.

  For the first half of the night I worked on preparing sides and burger fillings, but at 9:30 the manager told me to join Ben washing the plates. It wasn’t the first time I’d worked as a dishwasher, and it was every bit as hot and greasy as I remembered. Before long, my apron was soaked through, and hot, dirty water had seeped into my clothes as well. I tried to ignore Ben’s running commentary on how shocked he continued to be.

  After the plate sprayer hit a particularly messy plate at a bad angle, throwing a grease slick onto my apron, Ben turned to me, hands on his hips.

  “It makes me feel sick to see you doing this, Elise,” he said. I met his gaze. His usually marijuana-droopy eyes were wide open, and I smiled, touched by his earnestness.

  “Trust me, I did jobs worse than this when I was your age. And at least we get fed well,” I said.

  “Exactly. I’m 16, and you’re – like, an adult.” I laughed.

  “Ben, I’m still a student, which means I’m not a genuine adult yet. And when my bank account is showing zero, I’ve got to do whatever it takes to pay my bills,” I said, but he shook his head, still struggling with something outside of his comprehension.

  We didn’t get finished until late – way later than the servers. I was so tired my knees felt wobbly, and I was sweaty and stank of food. I was dying to get home and shower and slide into bed.

  As I left the diner, I checked my phone, registering as I did that there was a part of me that hoped that Jack hadn’t messaged me. She had. And then my heart beat fast as I waited the millisecond it took for the message to load. It said:

  Hey babe! Hope your shift went ok? Do you want to come over?

  Of course I wanted to see her, wanted to go to her softly lit room, kiss her lips, hear about what she’d been doing all day, be undressed by her, and make love for hours. But I didn’t want her to see me like this, all dirty and gross and drained of energy. It was so weird to feel two such opposing things at the same time. Was it better for her to think I was being cool with her, than to put her off me so early on in our relationship? Yes, in this case, it probably was, I reasoned. I typed out a reply:

  Hey yourself! The shift was loooong, and, I’m really sorry, but I’m exhausted, so I’ve got to go home and sleep in my own bed. I’ve got plans with my sister tomorrow night, but if you’re free the night after, we could do something?

  Reluctantly, I hit ‘ok’, and walked to the bus stop.

  My message alert beeped ten minutes later:

  Sure, I’ll let you know. Sleep well.

  “What?” I muttered, a little stung. Why is she being like this? Especially as I’ve explained why I can’t come and see her? “I can’t cope with this right now,” I muttered again, like a crazy person. I pressed the on/off button until my phone screen went black, and dropped it in my bag.

  After I’d showered, I was so tired that I forgot to turn it on again, and collapsed into an exhausted sleep that was unbroken for nine hours.

  The next morning, I switched on my phone to a chorus of beeps. I left the one from Jack till last, and read the rest. There was a message from Andie, wondering if I was still alive, and why I hadn’t replied to her last message; one from Elaine, inviting me to drinks; one from my mother, full of emotional, drunken nonsense, and one from the restaurant:

  Trial shift on Weds 11.30. Be on time.

  I sniggered. Years of working in restaurants had taught me that if the manager couldn’t pull together the most basic good manners, it wasn’t going to be a happy place to work. Working in the kitchen sucked, but at least I didn’t have to de
al with annoying customers, and I kind of liked hanging out with Ben. He was the kid brother I’d never had. I deleted the message with no regrets. Then I opened Jack’s message. It was sent 45 minutes after the one I’d seen last night.

  Hey, I just read back my last message. I didn’t mean to sound so retarded! I appreciate that I’ve been monopolizing your time, and that you’ve got a lot going on. I can swap my shift on Thursday if you want to do something? xx

  A swarm of butterflies came to life in my stomach. She wasn’t being an ass! We’re going to see each other again! She’d put two kisses at the end of the message! I liked that the first x wasn’t in caps too, meaning that she’d typed it deliberately, not quickly like when you’re messaging a friend. I read the message over three times, each time feeling a bigger glow of happiness.

  I replied to Andie, saying I’d call her in the afternoon, and I fixed up some plans with Elaine for the following week. I left my mother’s message for later, and then I replied to Jack, saying I’d love to see her on Thursday.

  Full of energy, I worked on my paper, writing double the amount of the previous day, attended two classes and caught up with Andie in the psychology fac. canteen. There was no reason why Jack would be there, but still, I couldn’t help looking around for her every few minutes, disappointed when the short, dark hair I saw here and there belonged to someone else.

  Andie was also intrigued by my recent absence.

  “You’re seeing someone, aren't you?” she said, hazel eyes narrowing. “I can see it in your face.” I felt a burst of panic, mingled with excitement.

  “No, I'm not, I swear,” I said, mentally adding a dollar to the lie box. She stirred her cappuccino.

  “I don't believe you. Look at you, you're glowing. And you've got those little shadows under your eyes that either mean insomnia or sexy times.” I smiled wryly.

  “Overwork is what they mean,” I said.

  “Yeah, this semester is a killer. I've never worked so hard in my life.”

  “Uh huh, that and my job.”

  “I forget you have to work so much in term time,” Andie said. “That really sucks.”

  “It’s not the best. So, what's new with you?”

  “I’ve started dating someone, actually. He's in my French class. His name is Chase, and he seems really cool.”

  “That's great, Andie!” I squeezed her hand across the table. “I’m so happy for you.” She grinned.

  “Now we just have to get you dating again, Elise. Actually – there's a party tomorrow at Chase’s house. He lives with like five other guys, and it's someone's birthday. You should come, I'm sure it's going to be a sausage party.”

  “Andie, that’s so gross!”

  “What?” she exclaimed, affecting innocence. “It’s an accepted phrase.” I shook my head, a million gross images running through my mind.

  “Actually, I can’t make it tomorrow. I’ve got something on.”

  “What’s that?” she said. I thought wildly.

  “I’m seeing a movie with my sister.”

  “Two nights in a row? Honey, your sister is awesome, but you need to get out more.”

  “Oh, it’s just this movie she’s wanted to see for a long time. She got tickets, but now her boyfriend doesn’t want to go.”

  “What movie is it?”

  “I don’t know. A chick flick.”

  “And where is it showing?”

  “I have no idea. Why are you interrogating me?” Andie rolled her eyes.

  “I just have the distinct sense that you’re making excuses, young lady.” Damnit. She knew me too well. Or, she used to know me so well. But if I told her the truth, her head would spin like the scene in The Exorcist. There’s no way she would have seen it coming.

  “Maybe I just need a little more time, you know, after Jared.”

  “Ok, fair enough. But I’ll be on your case again soon,” she said, wagging a finger at me. She tipped her head back and sipped the froth from her cappuccino. “So, what are you doing for thanksgiving this year?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about it – “ The end of my sentence was cut off by a familiar tall, dark-haired figure striding over to our table.

  “Hey, stranger!” Marianne said loudly, stopping right next to me. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” I replied, craning my neck to look up at her.

  “Where have you been hiding yourself? I called you the other day to tell you there were some drinks going on, but I couldn’t get hold of you.”

  “Oh, sorry. It’s my crappy phone,” I said, holding up the convincingly battered phone. “If it’s switched off when people call, I don’t usually receive an alert.”

  “Ah, I guess that was it. I’ll make sure to leave you a voicemail next time,” she said with a wink.

  “Yeah, you should.”

  “There’s something going on over the weekend actually, some kind of dance party. I’ll call you with the details, if you like?”

  “Yeah, sure thing.”

  “Ok, I’ll catch you soon,” she said, and flashed me a flirtatious smile as she left.

  “Who was that?” Andie said, the moment she was out of earshot.

  “Oh, just someone I bumped into randomly, a couple of weeks ago.”

  “I like her dress sense. It’s kind of dapper mixed with emo.” She paused, watching Marianne’s retreating figure.

  “Really? I didn’t think that’d be your thing?” I said. She shrugged.

  “Just because I don’t like it for myself doesn’t mean I don’t like it in principle.”

  “Fair enough – “

  “She looks like a dyke.” I spat a mouthful of coffee back into the cup.

  “You reckon?” I said, when I was capable of speech again.

  “Yeah, she’s got that hot andro thing going on.” Marianne had disappeared from view, and Andie turned her gaze back to me. “I’ve often wondered – “

  “What?”

  “What it would be like to, you know?”

  Are you serious?”

  Nooo, not really,” she laughed more loudly than she needed to. I stared at her in confusion. “Don’t freak, it was just a passing thought,” she said carelessly.

  After I left Andie, my head was in a jumble. How had that unexpectedly open-minded aspect of her character escaped my notice throughout our three-year friendship? Maybe I just hadn’t been looking for it. But, regardless, I’d failed to take advantage of any of the opportunities that the conversation had opened up, so much so that the lie box now overflowing. Idiot.

  Later that evening, I collapsed on the sofa next to my sister, full of gratitude that there was nothing else to get done for the day. We’d been out to a cozy Italian trattoria, and we were now picking out a movie.

  “What d’you feel like watching?” I said, sifting through a streaming site.

  “Anything, as long as it’s not a chick flick,” she said.

  We watched a European arthouse movie that was light on plot and heavy on slow, meaningful panoramas, which was perfect for my mood. My mind drifted here and there. I’d been looking forward to going out with Jack the following night, but she’d suggested going over to her place again instead. Doesn’t she like being out with me in public? I fretted. Maybe this is just a sex thing for her, and she doesn’t want to be seen to have a girlfriend as mainstream-looking as me? She already asked you to be her girlfriend, my more rational side pointed out. Then why aren’t we doing girlfriendy stuff together? my insecure side persisted. I stole a glance at my sister. She looked supremely comfortable, with a bowl of popcorn on her lap, feet up on the coffee table, and a craft beer on the table next to her. I wanted to ask her opinion, like I normally would, and we’d have a fun chat, and she’d tell me if I was being ridiculous and paranoid. But I couldn’t tell her. Or a single other person that I knew. Maybe I could tell Andie, backtrack on today’s conversation, and explain how I knew Marianne? The thought was deeply uncomfortable, as if I’d bee
n lying to her throughout our friendship, and I was only revealing the truth now.

  *

  The following afternoon, Jack opened the door of her house with a dazzling smile. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt and faded blue jeans with rips in the knees. My breath caught in my throat, I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to Jack as my girlfriend, a real person in my life, instead of an unrequited fantasy.

  “Hi, beautiful!” she said, skipping barefoot onto the lowest step to kiss me.

  “Hi!” I replied a little shakily, my nerves thrumming with the giant shot of adrenaline they’d received at the sight of her. I followed her up the stairs to her room, numbly answering the questions she was throwing over her shoulder, as I watched the movement of her strong shoulders, and the outline of her ass in the low-slung jeans.

  As soon as the door was closed, she stepped close to me, tilted my jaw with her thumb, and pulled me into a deep kiss. Her mouth was hungry and her tongue sought out mine. I shuddered as she pressed me against her body, her hands running up and down my back, fingertips circling the sensitive skin between my shoulder blades. She slid a thigh between mine, pressing on an incipient ache, briefly satisfying it, and then inflaming it further. Craving a more intimate touch, I fought an urge to grind on her. Her fingers hooked into the hem of my tanktop, and she lifted it up, as far as my ribcage. I pulled away.

  “What is it?” she said. I dropped my head. “Elise, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It’s just – “

  “Just what?” In a split second, the expression in her eyes had turned from hungry to concerned.

  “We have a lot of sex.”

  “We do!” she said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “Which I really love, of course. It’s just that – “ I sat down on the edge of the bed, focusing my words so they didn’t come out sounding ridiculous and whiny. “We spend all of our time in your room, and we never go out anywhere. I’m worried that this is just about sex, and you don’t want me to be your full-time girlfriend, I mean, to go out in public and do things with.” Jack laughed. I stared at her in shock. “This is funny?” she sat on the bed next to me, and took my hand.