Homecoming

by Nell Stark

  On screen, the camera spun in a circle above a mattress. Rory stopped breathing. Holy shit. What would it be like to touch Sarah? To skim her palm between Sarah’s breasts and along the plane of her abdomen…to trace the lines of her torso as they converged. To slide one finger deep inside—to watch as Sarah’s body tensed and her head snapped back.

  Rory’s breathing was quick and shallow, and her face felt hot. Every muscle in her body was clenched tightly, held taut in the grip of desire. Oh my God. I want her. Rory wanted to look at Sarah—to see her reaction to the scene—but she stayed absolutely still, afraid that her eyes would betray what she was thinking. She kept her gaze on the television but couldn’t seem to focus on anything. She had never felt like this before—had never experienced this sudden and intense a reaction to something. No, not something. Someone. The movie might have triggered her daydreams, but it was Sarah that she wanted. Sarah. Fuck, this is insane.

  When a knock sounded at the door, Rory started. As Sarah got up to answer it, Rory rubbed the back of her neck and took two long gulps from her beer. She needed to settle down, and quickly. But when she heard Chelsea’s voice, guilt jolted through her like an electric charge. Oh, knock it off, she told her conscience. I don’t have anything to feel guilty about. Thoughts are just thoughts.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” Chelsea was saying. “I called and left a bunch of text messages. You didn’t get them?”

  Rory watched Sarah’s head turn toward the phone on her desk. “Damn, I’m sorry. I guess I haven’t checked in a while.” Sarah put her hands on Chelsea’s waist, leaned in, and kissed her. “I’m really, really sorry for worrying you. I must not have heard my cell.” She indicated the television. “We’ve been watching movies.”

  Rory wondered whether Chelsea recognized the film on her TV, and if so, what she was thinking. Then again, she seemed so completely wrapped up in Sarah that she didn’t have eyes for anything else. When they kissed a second time, Rory’s grip on her bottle tightened. Chelsea knows everything I don’t. The feel of Sarah’s lips, the texture of her skin, the—

  She quickly jumped to her feet and squeezed past Chelsea to open the door. “Bathroom,” she explained. “Back in a minute.”

  Once she reached the sanctuary of the ladies’ room, Rory splashed cold water on her face. She clutched the edges of the sink and stared into the mirror, trying to focus on her reflection instead of on the vision of Chelsea and Sarah, naked in bed together, that was playing on the wide screen of her brain. Fuck fuck fuck. What am I going to do?

  “You’re going to not be an idiot,” she muttered. So I’m in lust with my roommate, so what? Every lesbian on campus is, too.

  The thought brought Rory up short. She watched as the expression on her face shifted from anxious to surprised. “Jesus. Am I queer?” She had never believed that she was a zero on the Kinsey scale—more like a one. But you just got hopelessly turned on thinking about Sarah. About fucking her. You’re at least a three, kiddo.

  “Yeah, well, so what?” Rory stared at her reflection defiantly. So what if she was having a revelation? It didn’t change anything. Not really. Sarah had a girlfriend. End of story.

  She slumped against the counter and buried her face in her hands. Her head felt like it did every summer after she got off the Teacups ride at the local fair. Holy fucking fuck. How did this happen so fast? And if it had to happen at all, why couldn’t she be jonesing after someone single?

  If it’s women you want, there are plenty others out there. But Rory didn’t feel like she wanted “women” at all. She quickly cycled through her female friends. Was she attracted to any of them? No…no, no. And no. Huh. So what made Sarah different? And why was she having an epiphany now? The end of her first semester junior year was not a convenient time. And if she was going to have all of these inconvenient feelings, why couldn’t they at least be directed toward someone who would reciprocate? Why couldn’t she just feel a general attraction to all things…womanly?

  But no. I want a woman. Just one. The one fucking living in my fucking dorm room. Fuck.

  She reached for a paper towel and dried off her face and hands. It was past time for her to go back. Sarah might think that something was wrong. And it was imperative that she be absolutely, positively, utterly and completely ignorant about this new development. I’ll spend time thinking about this later, Rory vowed. Right now…I just gotta get through tonight.

  As she marched back down the hallway, Rory prepared herself to find Sarah and Chelsea snuggling. But when she opened the door, Sarah was alone, sitting in her beanbag chair, a beer dangling from her right hand. She had that pensive expression on her face, but smiled when she saw Rory.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “Never better,” Rory said, glad that she was so good at lying through her teeth. “Where’s Chelsea? I figured she’d stick around.”

  “Oh, she had a lot of work to do.” Sarah twisted the bottle idly, and Rory felt her gaze drawn to Sarah’s fingers. They were long, and slender, and dammit all to hell, she was not going to imagine what they’d feel like inside her.

  “Okay,” Rory said, uncertain about whether she should feel relief or panic that they were alone again. She retrieved her own drink. “Want to keep watching?”

  “If you do,” Sarah said. But if you’re not liking Bound, we can just switch to the next movie. D.E.B.S. It’s a parody.”

  “I want to see how this one ends,” Rory said. “The camera work is fucking brilliant.” And then, because she figured it was something that her old self would have said, she added, “That love scene was hot. H-a-w-t hot.”

  Sarah’s answering laugh sounded relieved. “Glad you thought so. I was a little worried that it might, y’know, weird you out.”

  “No way, babe,” Rory said, mustering all her bravado. She settled back into her chair and focused on the television. “Didn’t faze me. Not one bit.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next day, Rory sat in her biology class, completely ignoring the professor’s lecture on mitochondria and instead trying to figure out whether she was attracted to any of the other women in the class. The one sitting at the end of her row had a classically beautiful, heart-shaped face. She probably could have been a model if she had been taller. The one sitting two rows in front of her had well-toned arms, though Rory was mystified as to why she insisted on wearing a tank top in December. Then there was the woman in the front row with the long, slender legs—very shapely. Oh, and the girl slouching in the back corner had cool hair—spiky and dramatically highlighted.

  Rory sighed as she dutifully copied down the terms that her professor was scrawling on the board. She didn’t understand herself. How could she be attracted to only bits and pieces of the women in this huge lecture hall, while simultaneously lusting after every inch of Sarah? And if Sarah was the only woman to whom she was attracted, then did that really make her a lesbian?

  What about Jeff? she thought suddenly. She sat back in the uncomfortable wooden seat, trying to figure out whether her feelings for him had changed. I still think he’s hot. And incredibly talented. But in the past few weeks, she hadn’t thought of him much except in the context of her documentary’s soundtrack. Maybe I’m finally over that crush.

  If so, what did that mean for her sexual orientation? What am I? If she and Sarah were ever to date, people would assume that she was at least bisexual. Rory frowned at her notebook. Not that she cared what people called her, really, but the whole phenomenon of labeling was interesting. And mildly disturbing. For the first time, she understood why so many of her queer friends were loath to identify with one specific group. If you’re still confused, it must not feel very good to have someone put you in whatever box suits their purpose.

  Rory shrugged, trying to loosen the knot of tension that had developed between her shoulders. She thought briefly about cornering Matt and telling him all about what was going on…but he would have definitive ideas, and she wanted to be
able to figure this out for herself. Now that she knew she was capable of wanting another woman, she couldn’t help but wonder whether any of her friendships in middle and high school had been based on a deep-seated, unrecognized attraction. Holy crap. Did I have crushes on all my friends without knowing it?

  Mercifully, at that moment, the professor dismissed class. Rory gathered up her belongings and left the room, intent on getting home as quickly as possible. She was tired of overthinking this. Her head felt like a hamster wheel. If she could just immerse herself in working on the FRI commercial, she would be able to escape the unwelcome questions stewing in her brain. For a while, anyway.

  *

  “Don’t you want to get lunch?” Sarah asked as Chelsea pulled her away from the dining hall. “I only have an hour until Bioethics.”

  Chelsea shook her head, steering them toward her dorm. “I’m starving,” she said, her voice husky, “but not for food.”

  Sarah’s gut somersaulted. Although they’d been together for almost two months now, she and Chelsea still hadn’t made love. Sarah didn’t know why she was so reluctant, but hadn’t been able to stop dragging her feet. Fortunately, she had been so busy during the past few weeks that the issue hadn’t really come up. Now, though, it looked like Chelsea was taking matters into her own hands.

  As they rode up to Chelsea’s room in the elevator, she backed Sarah against the wall, leaned in, and kissed her deeply. Sarah couldn’t hold back a soft moan as Chelsea’s tongue tangled with her own. She pulled Chelsea close, praying that for once, her brain would just shut off so her body could take over.

  “You’re an incredible kisser,” Chelsea whispered as the elevator came to a halt.

  “It takes two,” Sarah said, smiling. The desire that Chelsea had awakened seethed inside her, making her restless. But something was holding her back from just giving in and letting it take over.

  “I never get to see you anymore,” Chelsea said as they entered her room. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed, beckoning to Sarah. “I don’t want to whine and complain, because I know that you’re busy for good reasons, but…I’ve been missing you.” When Sarah sat next to her, Chelsea gently pushed until Sarah was on her back and she was lying on top. “And just thinking about you makes me horny,” she murmured, trailing kisses down Sarah’s throat.

  Fear rose sharply in Sarah’s gut. This was getting out of control too fast. “Kiss me again,” she said, pressing one hand to the small of Chelsea’s back. When she obliged, Sarah reached between their bodies and brushed her knuckles over Chelsea’s nipples.

  “Oh, God,” Chelsea murmured against Sarah’s mouth.

  Relieved that the distraction had worked, Sarah twisted her hand so she could torment Chelsea’s breasts with her fingers. She shifted so that one of her legs was resting between Chelsea’s, and gently pressed her thigh up into Chelsea’s body.

  “Sarah—” Chelsea gasped, grinding down against her. “Baby, yes.”

  “No talking,” Sarah ordered before deepening the kiss. Chelsea was wild above her, panting into her mouth as Sarah twisted her nipples and rhythmically pumped her thigh against Chelsea’s sex. When Chelsea tossed her head back to expose her throat, Sarah arched up to kiss the throbbing pulse in her neck.

  Without any warning, she thought of Rory. What would Rory’s breasts feel like against her palms? They’d be heavier—more full. Would she be sensitive? Would she give as good as she got, pressing her knee into Sarah and teasing Sarah’s nipples, even as she approached climax? Would she lean down to kiss Sarah, pulling hard on her hair as her tongue—

  And then, with a tiny cry, Chelsea came. Guilt burned in Sarah’s chest, but she continued her movements, only stopping when Chelsea collapsed against her. She wrapped her arms around Chelsea, pulling her closer when a series of tiny aftershocks made her shiver. Oh God, she thought. What’s wrong with me? Why the hell did that happen? Struggling to put Rory out of her mind, she tightened her hold on Chelsea and kissed her forehead lightly. “Wow.”

  “No shit,” Chelsea said, raising her head to smile lazily. “You’re incredible. And I was so wound up.” She pressed a series of nipping kisses to Sarah’s jaw line, ending at her ear. “Your turn now,” she whispered throatily, sending a shiver down Sarah’s spine.

  But although her body reacted, panic flooded her brain. No. She struggled to sit up in the bed. “I can’t,” she said, trying to stay calm. “Class soon.” She refused to consider what it might mean that Rory had invaded her thoughts, earlier. It didn’t mean anything. Only happened because we watched Bound yesterday.

  Chelsea frowned at her. “Your class isn’t for another half an hour,” she pointed out. Sitting back on her heels, she regarded Sarah with an accusatory look. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”

  Sarah blinked at the direct confrontation. Frantically, she tried to come up with a valid reason. Any reason at all. I can’t tell her that it just doesn’t feel right, she thought desperately. I’ll hurt her. But just as Chelsea was starting to look really upset, inspiration struck. Dar.

  “My ex,” Sarah said hurriedly, taking a deep breath when Chelsea’s expression transformed into sympathy. “She was my first, and things heated up between us really fast. I never saw the breakup coming.” Sarah felt hollow inside as she thought back to that day—not too long ago, still—when Dar had so unexpectedly called it quits. “I guess…I guess I’m afraid to become that serious again.”

  She had begun speaking just to say something, anything, but now that the words were out there, Sarah thought they might actually be true. The idea of letting someone get close enough to hurt her the way Dar had was terrifying. Maybe that really is why I’m keeping Chelsea at arm’s length.

  Chelsea reached for Sarah’s hand, nodding. “Okay,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb over Sarah’s knuckles. “I understand. Thank you for telling me. I can wait a while longer.” She leaned in for a gentle kiss. “When I finally do make love to you, Sarah Storm, I don’t want you to feel anything but pleasure.”

  *

  Rory’s pulse sped up when she heard the door open, but she stubbornly remained hunched over her desk, staring at her computer screen.

  “Hey,” Sarah said. “Missed you at the office today. What have you been up to?”

  Missed me? She missed me? Rory bit her lip to keep from grinning like an idiot, and instead shifted her cursor to highlight several seconds’ worth of footage. “Hey, yo,” she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. “I’ve been working on first cuts for this damn commercial all afternoon.”

  “Nice,” Sarah said, coming to stand directly behind her. Rory silently begged her for a shoulder massage, but sadly, Sarah kept her hands to herself. “How’s it going?”

  Rory shrugged. “Eh. I should have started working on it earlier. Nancy needs it in two weeks, so it’s just one more thing on my plate besides finals.”

  “Rotten timing,” Sarah agreed. “Anything I can do to help?”

  All kinds of inappropriate answers jumped to the front of Rory’s brain, but she settled for shaking her head. “Unless,” she added a moment later, spinning around to face Sarah, “you want to save me half an hour and bring me back some food from the caf.”

  “I can do that.” Sarah checked the calendar hanging from their corkboard and laughed. “Apparently it’s Asian cuisine night at Roger Williams. Any special requests?”

  Rory stuck out her tongue. “Asian cuisine my ass,” she said. “My mom could cook circles around those noobs.” She sat up straighter then, suddenly remembering a conversation she’d had with Matt this morning. “And speaking of my mom…do you still feel like coming over during winter break?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Sarah said. “I think that would be really fun, if you want.”

  “How about for New Year’s? Matt only lives about half an hour away from me, and he just told me today that he’s going to throw a party. So if you want, you can come over on the thirtieth and then we can head to his pla
ce together.” A sudden thought caused her stomach to lurch crazily. “Unless you’re going to hang out with Chelsea—”

  Sarah held up one hand, forestalling Rory’s caveating. “Chelsea’s family is spending that week in Hawaii,” she said. “It’d be great to meet your parents and go to the party with you.”

  Rory knew that Sarah was speaking only in the platonic sense, but her stomach got all fluttery anyway. “Excellent,” she said, turning back to her computer so that Sarah wouldn’t see her face. “It’s a date.”

  Chapter Ten

  December 30

  Sarah turned into Rory’s driveway, cut the engine, and stared up at the brick façade of Rory’s house. Black shutters lined the windows, and a large wreath covered much of the dark gray front door. Without the heat blasting, the winter chill seeped quickly into her car, but Sarah made no move to get out. Despite the fact that she had been looking forward all week to spending New Year’s Eve with Rory, she was suddenly apprehensive about meeting her family.

  I don’t really know much about them, she realized. Were they liberal or conservative? Religious? Rory had never even mentioned what her parents did for work. And what if they objected to their daughter being friends with a lesbian?

  Sarah looked down at her clothes—a black long-sleeved shirt that she’d found on sale in the men’s section of Old Navy, men’s cargo pants, and Doc Martens. She sighed. No way do I read as straight.

  “Why couldn’t I have turned out femme?” she muttered as she shoved the door open. She stepped out onto the pavement and quickly grabbed her bag from the trunk, wincing at the bitter cold of the metal against her fingers.