Homecoming

by Nell Stark

  Stop it. The thought was savage. You’re making yourself crazy. Resolutely, Rory turned back to her camera, vowing to concentrate on her work and not on the pipe dream of how Sarah’s fingers would feel entwined with her own.

  *

  Sarah walked faster as she neared the door of Adams Hall. She had needed to stay after the panel for a few minutes to thank the speakers and help clean up the stage area, but now she was hustling back toward the GLBT student center to debrief with the other students. The debate had been high-powered and controversial, and she was eager to hear what people were saying about it.

  She was still several yards away when she picked out Matt’s voice in a descant over the low buzz of the room.

  “Was anyone else, like, totally freaked out by some of those people who asked questions?”

  Sarah paused in the doorway, surveying the scene. The most active LGBT students on campus—about ten of them—lounged on the couch and on the floor. Two open boxes of pizza steamed enticingly on the work table, and Rory was perched on a chair in the corner, filming. Sarah waved, then took a place on the floor at Chelsea’s feet.

  “Yeah, there were some nut jobs there tonight,” John said. He briefly rested his head on his boyfriend—Travis’s—shoulder. “T kept telling me to just squeeze his hand when I really wanted to stand up and ream them out.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Matt said. “Like how about that guy who asked the question about people marrying their pets? I mean, what the fuck?”

  Sarah rested her cheek against Chelsea’s knee as she watched her friends’ collective outrage. They were angry and passionate, and in that moment, she loved them fiercely. God, I hope we win this. We deserve to win this.

  “Yeah, that was bullshit,” one of the freshmen girls said. “Like my family dog could sign a marriage certificate. Right.”

  “That lawyer did have an interesting point about people abusing the system,” Chelsea said. “People marrying their roommates for tax breaks and such.”

  Matt shook his head violently. “First of all…what straight boy is going to marry another straight boy, even if it does save them money? I think they’d rather starve. And even if they did, so what? People abuse the institution of marriage right now. All the time.”

  “I understand that, Matthew,” Chelsea said sharply. “I was just saying that he had a point.”

  “Y’know what I don’t understand?” Travis said into the slightly awkward silence. “I don’t get everyone in that room who made comments about ‘those people.’ Like the woman who wanted ‘those people’ to stop making such a big deal out of this amendment. Could she not see that at least half the audience was queer?” He hunched his shoulders. “Made me feel weird.”

  “I don’t know how Professor Torrey stayed as calm as she did,” Sarah chimed in. “Seeing as she’s one of ‘those people’ too.”

  “Why do they hate us so much?” John said quietly. “It’s not like we’re asking for special treatment. Just the same right as everybody else.”

  Sarah felt her heart lurch in empathy. She’d been asking the same thing, ever since that summer night at her parents’ kitchen table. Why won’t you accept me? Why won’t you be fair? There was never an answer, and the constant questioning added to her fatigue.

  “What do you think, Sarah?” another freshman was asking. “What’s going to happen in April?”

  Sarah ran both hands through her short hair. “I have no idea,” she said. “I’m hopeful, you know? Because there’s so much good stuff happening at FRI and in other organizations around the state. But…” She shrugged. “We have to remember that the amendment passed in both the House and the Senate. It has a lot of support.”

  “If it fails, I vote we all transfer to a school in Massachusetts,” Travis said, half grinning.

  “Screw Massachusetts,” Matt said. “I’m emigrating to Canada.”

  Chelsea got to her feet and stretched delicately. “Well, I’m going to emigrate to my room,” she said. “It’s been a long day. And don’t forget—dance committee meeting at noon tomorrow. We need to make posters.” She looked down at Sarah. “Walk me there?”

  “Absolutely.” Sarah stood up and immediately yawned. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. But she couldn’t afford to sleep yet. She had a response paper due first thing in the morning for her political science class.

  Sarah paused at the door, her attention drawn to Rory. She was slowly packing up her camera, and there was a strange expression on her face—part sadness, and part something else that Sarah couldn’t quite recognize. She looks tired, too.

  “Hey Ror, I’ll be home soon,” Sarah said. “Will you be there?”

  “Yeah,” Rory said. She flashed a little smile, but that looked sad as well. “See you in a bit.”

  Wonder what’s going on, Sarah thought as Chelsea reached for her hand and tugged. I’ll have to remember to ask her later.

  “Okay,” she said aloud. “See you.”

  *

  Rory stared sightlessly at her computer screen. She should have been working on her English paper, but she’d pulled up Facebook instead. Even that wasn’t an adequate distraction, though. She kept listening for the sound of Sarah’s return—kept wondering whether perhaps Sarah had decided not to come home after all. She had never yet spent the entire night in Chelsea’s room, for whatever reason, but what if today proved to be the exception?

  Soon. Sarah had said she’d be back soon, but that had been almost two hours ago. What if Chelsea’s roommate hadn’t been home and Chelsea had taken the opportunity to push Sarah onto the bed? What if she had undone each faux-pearl button of her shirt until she could slip her hands inside and slide her thumbs over Sarah’s nipples? What if, suddenly impatient, she’d reached down to finger Sarah through her slacks, kissing her hard until she came? What if—

  The door opened, and Rory jumped. Resolutely, she continued to stare straight ahead, afraid that Sarah would be able to read her expression if she turned.

  “Hey, yo.”

  “Hey,” Sarah said. “I’m surprised you’re still up. I can barely see, I’m so tired. I went to the library after I walked Chelsea home so I’d be forced to finish my paper.”

  The relief was so strong that it made Rory dizzy. She dared to spin so that she could watch Sarah move around the room, first hanging up her coat and then dropping her backpack next to her desk.

  “And? Did you get it done?” Sarah looked over and nodded. Fuck, but she was hot in her slightly rumpled dressy clothes.

  “Yeah, all set. It’s not brilliant, but it’ll do.” She cocked her head. “What have you been up to?”

  “Trying to work.” Rory shrugged and stood up. “I think I should just turn in, though. Wicked tired.” She liked going to bed when Sarah did—liked falling asleep to the even sounds of her breathing. It was comforting.

  “Me, too. Hey, did you get good footage tonight?”

  “Definitely,” Rory said. She nudged Sarah with one elbow on her way into the bedroom. “You’re a good public speaker, y’know.”

  “Yeah? Really?”

  “Yeah,” Rory said as she slipped into her pajamas. It felt nice to be able to give Sarah compliments. There was so much she kept bottled inside when it came to her, but about this much, she could be truthful. “You’re poised, articulate, easy to hear. You don’t look like you have the jitters at all.”

  “Jeez. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  Rory padded out of the bedroom, toothbrush in hand. “Oh?” she said, arching one eyebrow and pursing her lips slightly. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

  She flashed Sarah what she hoped was a mysterious smile before heading out the door toward the bathroom. Part of her was cringing in fear that Sarah would see through her flirting, but the rest of her was pleased at the reaction she’d elicited. Sarah had gotten all blinky. Slack-jawed, even.

  I affect her, Rory thought. I do. Maybe…just maybe this isn’t completely hopeless after all.

 
Chapter Twelve

  February 17

  “This is hopeless,” Sarah called, turning away from the mirror on the back of their door. She tossed the tie she’d borrowed from Matt onto her desk. “I can’t do it. Totally beyond me.”

  “You can’t tie a tie?” Rory shouted back from the bedroom, where she was getting dressed. “What kind of lesbian are you?”

  “Clearly a subpar one.” Sarah inspected herself in the mirror. She was wearing black slacks, a light blue French oxford shirt, and a black jacket that she had borrowed from one of the guys across the hall. Matt’s rainbow tie would have been the perfect addition to an otherwise banal outfit, but despite having watched her father tie a Windsor many times, she couldn’t even get close. “I’ll just bring it along and have Matt do it.”

  “The hell you will!”

  When the bedroom door banged open, Sarah felt her jaw drop. Rory was striding toward her purposefully, one hand outstretched. She was dressed in a black strapless gown, and she had curled two thick locks of hair so that they framed her face. Oh my God. She’s stunning.

  “Where is it? I’ll tie it for you. I’d teach you, but we’re already running late.”

  Sarah pointed to the desk, not sure she was capable of speaking. Incredible. She looks…incredible. Rory liked baggy clothes—sweats and cargo pants and loose-fitting jeans. The dress she had on tonight, though, clung to her body, accentuating her curves.

  Sarah knew she was staring, but couldn’t seem to stop. She let her gaze roam where her hands wanted to, lingering on Rory’s breasts before moving slowly across her ribs and down toward the tantalizing swell of her hips.

  Lush. That was the word for her figure. Desire ignited deep in Sarah’s gut as Rory moved close to her.

  “Stand still,” Rory said, threading the tie underneath Sarah’s collar and leaning in to work on the knot. “If you fidget, I’ll fuck it up and then we’ll be even later.”

  Sarah clenched her hands at her sides against an overwhelming impulse to rest them on Rory’s waist. She tried to take a long, slow breath. Normal. Have to act normal.

  “You look…really nice,” she finally managed. And you smell good, too.

  Rory expertly twisted the fabric, then leaned in close to adjust the knot. Her hair brushed against Sarah’s cheek. “Why so surprised?” she asked dryly. “Didn’t think I could clean up?”

  “W-what?’ Sarah spluttered. “I implied no such thing!”

  “There. Done.” She took a step back. “And yes, your tone of voice indicated mild shock.”

  As space opened up between them, Sarah found it easier to breathe. Normal. Banter. C’mon. She made a face and bent down to pull on her shoes. “Whatever. You’re just trying to get my goat.”

  “Mission accomplished, huh?”

  When Sarah glared, Rory winked at her and slid her feet into a pair of heels. She click-clacked over to the door and swung it open. Despite her recent resolution, Sarah was mesmerized by the way the black fabric hugged Rory’s ass.

  She blinked and focused on the floor, fighting off a twinge of panic. At this rate, it was going to be a long, long night.

  “Chop chop, stud,” Rory said from the doorway. “Matt’s pre-parties are notorious for running out of booze before the main event begins. And I, for one, am not up for recapping my high school years at the big dance unless I’m at least tipsy.”

  *

  Rory allowed Sarah to open Matt’s door for her and was immediately assaulted by the smell of beer and the sound of Madonna asking anyone and everyone to justify her love. The room was packed, and as she picked her way toward the coolers in the corner, Rory noticed that she was turning quite a few heads.

  Including Sarah’s. The expression on her face had been priceless. Rory couldn’t help but feel smug. The sure and certain knowledge that Sarah was attracted to her was a rush. New Year’s wasn’t a fluke after all. And if dressing up like a real girl was what it took for Sarah to notice her, then dammit, she’d wear dresses more often.

  “Rory!” Matt enveloped her in a hug, then took a step back to hold her at arm’s length. He was wearing a white suit, and his hair was a brilliant blue. “That dress is fabulous. You’re total heartbreak material tonight.”

  “Let’s hope you’re not the only one who thinks so,” she said, trying to be enigmatic. “How about fixing us up with some beverages?”

  “Us?” Matt looked around. “Us who?”

  “Oh,” Rory said as she turned. “I must have lost Sarah in the crowd.”

  Matt pointed toward the far corner. Chelsea had backed Sarah into it and was kissing her for all she was worth. Rory felt her stomach sink into her feet, even as she was mesmerized. Is that what we’d look like if we were making out?

  “I think Chelsea found her.”

  “And is trying to swallow her tongue,” Rory finished. She resolutely looked away and snapped her fingers. “Let’s go, host, give a single girl a drink.”

  “You’re getting the punch, m’lady. Beer is too coarse and unrefined for the likes of you.”

  “I do believe I’m flattered,” Rory said, doing her best to affect a Southern accent.

  Matt offered her a campy bow as he handed over a brimming cup, and was about to say something else when shouting erupted across the room.

  “Aw, dude! Party foul!”

  Matt’s head whipped around and he grabbed for the roll of paper towels on top of the dresser. “Damn klutzes. Back in a sec.”

  Rory was faced with a choice. She could either stand around missing Sarah or find a way to hang out with her, despite Chelsea. A few months ago, she would have waited patiently for Matt’s return. But Sarah had almost kissed her between now and then, and Rory was fairly certain that she’d wanted to again, earlier tonight. That had to mean something.

  Suddenly determined, Rory filled two additional cups with punch and migrated slowly through the jam of people, nodding at those she knew and smiling at all the compliments on her attire. As she approached Sarah, though, her smile faltered. Something about Sarah’s body language looked off. She seemed stiff, as though Chelsea’s attention was unwanted.

  As much as Rory wanted to feel grateful for that, she was also concerned. Something must be wrong. The feeling intensified when Sarah caught sight of her and immediately looked relieved.

  “Rory! Hey, what’s up?”

  “I brought you each a drink.” Rory set the cups down on the windowsill and managed to grin. “Figured you’d be thirsty after all…that.”

  “Oh, that was sweet of you,” Chelsea said, taking the proffered punch. “Thanks.”

  She sipped delicately. Sarah, however, downed her entire cup in three long swallows. Rory raised her eyebrows. What the hell is going on? Sarah had been happy enough just five minutes ago. What had happened in the meantime?

  “Need me to get you another one, roomie?”

  “I’ll come with you.” Sarah leaned down to kiss Chelsea on the cheek. “See you in a minute, ’kay?”

  “You all right?” Rory asked as they crossed the room.

  “Yeah, sure.” Sarah jammed her hands in the pockets of her slacks and hunched her shoulders. “I just needed a breather.”

  “Literally?”

  Rory expected a friendly retort, but Sarah just nodded. She was slipping into one of her pensive moods, and Rory had no idea what to do. She wanted to ask what was going on, but had a feeling that Sarah would shut down if she did. So instead, she handed over two more cups.

  “You look tense,” she said. “Why don’t you drink one of these now and take the other back?”

  Sarah cracked a half-smile. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “Damn, you saw right through me,” Rory said, hoping for a laugh. “Does that mean I can’t take advantage of you now?”

  She had meant it as a joke, but Sarah’s grin disappeared completely. Shit, Rory thought, watching her take a long swallow from the cup in her right hand. She seemed even more uneasy than she had been a
few minutes ago. I’m off my game tonight.

  Sarah looked over toward the corner, then back again. For some reason, she wouldn’t meet Rory’s gaze. “I should get back, I guess,” she said.

  “Yeah, okay.” Rory contented herself with patting Sarah gently on one shoulder. “Relax and enjoy the night, will you?”

  “Of course.” Sarah favored Rory with a small smile before turning toward Chelsea. “Thanks.”

  “And don’t let her win at tonsil hockey!” Rory called.

  She was gratified to get the finger in response. That’s more like it. It was hard to watch Sarah walk away, so instead, she poured another cup full of punch. A few seconds later, Matt slid past her to grab a beer from one of the coolers and slouched despondently against the wall.

  “Why, why did I have to make that damn punch bright red? I’ll never get the stain out of my carpet. Never.”

  Rory rolled her eyes. “Chill. You are the king of dye. You’ll figure it out.” She raised her cup and clinked it with his bottle. “Quit worrying and have a good time. For fuck’s sake, I sound like a broken record.”

  *

  Sarah handed her ticket to the volunteer standing outside the door, and followed Chelsea into the dance. Having helped to set up the hall earlier in the day, she knew what she would find. A large disco ball hung from the ceiling and rainbow streamers crisscrossed the room. The lights above the dance floor alternated red, green, and blue.

  “I’m going to go request some songs,” Chelsea said, fiddling with Sarah’s collar. “To set the mood for…later.” She winked, then turned her face up for a kiss before moving toward the DJ.