But was it easy? It definitely came at a price—Dani and Sian treating her like an interloper they hoped wouldn’t linger long; Justin, assaulting her verbally and physically; Emma, kissing her and then, as Dani had said, freezing her out.
Unable to sleep, she slipped out of bed and grabbed her phone from the dresser. She carried it to the papa san chair near the window and turned it on, waiting impatiently for it to load. When it finally did she typed out a quick text: “Are you around at all this weekend? DC plays LA, and I was thinking maybe we could tape it and watch together at some point. Let me know. Sweet dreams.”
She hit send and sat looking out the window. Dani lived in a neighborhood with street lamps and sidewalks and other houses within sight, only a few blocks from where her own family had lived before her father got famous. Residential, that was what her mother called it, while their current neighborhood was made up of private estates. What would life have been like if her father had never invented his technique? Would he have stayed healthier longer without the stress of constant travel to wear him down? Would they have lived here among other families with kids her and Ty’s ages, instead of in that huge house on the side of a hill with mountains, water, and sky as far as you could see? That house didn’t feel like home anymore, not without her dad.
And yet, she could still see Jamie stretching in the sunlight angling in her bedroom window, her bedhead adorable, her eyes shut tightly against the light. Even after her father died, the house had felt like home—as long as Jamie was in it.
She closed her eyes as a tear squeezed out. Only she wasn’t sure who she was crying over: her dad or Jamie. Probably both. Because without either of them to anchor her in place, she didn’t know where home was.
Chapter Eleven
“PASS THE TAPE, WILL YOU?”
Jamie handed Meg the tape and watched her secure either end of the package, wrapping paper drawn up in perfectly square, even flaps. Then Meg added a ribbon and used the scissors blade to curl each strand.
“Crap.” Jamie gazed down at her own slightly askew, ribbon-less wrapping job. “I think I’m missing a straight girl gene.”
“Or two or three.” Meg ducked as Jamie tossed a spare strip of wrapping paper at her. “Hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”
“Are you done yet?” Becky asked from the bed where she was reading Rolling Stone and critiquing their wrapping skills.
Their mom’s birthday was the following day. Tonight, Saturday, they had come over to Becky’s house, where they’d stashed their presents earlier in the week.
“Yes, oh patient one.”
Becky ignored Meg’s sarcasm. “Let’s go then. I don’t want to miss the first set.”
A band Meg and Becky liked was playing an all-ages show at a club in San Francisco, and Jamie was planning to check it out with a girl from her Spanish class. A week earlier, Faith had approached her at her locker and asked her out. The show would be their second date.
On the train into the city, she checked her reflection in the opposite window. She was wearing a black and white bowling shirt (her favorite thrift shop purchase ever) over a black tank top paired with close-fitting olive cargo pants and her usual Doc Marten’s. She looked good, she thought, checking her profile.
“Easy, lady-killer,” Becky said, elbowing her.
“Whatever. You’re just jealous.”
“Of you, or of her?”
Jamie looked at her quickly and saw the challenge in Becky’s eyes. Wait. Becky was straight, wasn’t she? Could Jamie really have missed something that important about her sister’s best friend? Before she could decide what the look meant, Meg said something from Becky’s other side and the moment passed.
Her phone buzzed and Jamie’s heart leapt a little. But it was only Faith making sure the plan hadn’t changed. She texted back and tucked her phone away. Emma was currently away at U-19 World Cup qualifying in Canada, and just like every other national team camp had only texted and emailed a few times. Even though Jamie understood why, it was hard not to worry when Emma stopped calling. No matter how temporary, the hiatus reminded her of the break they’d taken after her Seattle visit. They’d eventually started talking again, but things had never been quite the same as they were before Emma’s dad died.
In a way, she was almost relieved that Emma was away at qualifiers right now. Dating was stressful enough without having to worry about how to talk to Emma about it. The last time she’d gone out with a girl, she’d ended up making her cry. Honestly, she would prefer to avoid repeating that experience if at all possible.
As Meg had suggested, Jamie had ended things with Amanda right after she got back from Portland. Only instead of simply accepting Jamie’s declaration that she thought they’d be better off as friends, Amanda had asked if she was ending things because of Emma.
“I knew you had feelings for her. You slept with her, didn’t you?” Amanda had demanded, brushing away a tear as they sat in her car outside Jamie’s house.
Jamie had hesitated, trying to determine the line between sleeping with and sleeping with someone. “No, I didn’t. I just realized while I was gone that I’m not sure I see a future with you.” Which was completely true. So she might have told Emma she loved her and Emma might have kissed her. Amanda didn’t really need to know those details, did she?
As Amanda turned her head away, her breath catching, Jamie had sat motionless, trying to resist the urge to open the car door and bolt away. She had never made anyone cry before, and she was tempted to take it all back, to tell Amanda never mind, they could keep hanging out after all. But then she remembered her sister threatening to tell Amanda what had happened in Seattle herself, and she tamped down on her decidedly unhelpful fix-it tendencies.
Faith was different, though. Jamie had liked her on and off for a while now. Maybe she would be exactly what she needed to finally move past her feelings for Emma.
As the train slowed for their stop, Jamie’s phone buzzed again and she grabbed it, heart all aflutter for all the wrong reasons.
“Stop thinking about Emma,” the text read.
Jamie leaned forward and flipped off her sister. Unlike Shoshanna, Meg wasn’t oath-bound not to hit her over the head with how she believed she should be managing her life.
Meg did have a point, though, Jamie had to admit as she followed her sister and Becky from the train. She didn’t want to be thinking about Emma tonight. Earlier in the day she’d scored a goal and assisted another at her club match, and now she was headed out on a date with a girl she actually thought she might want to kiss. Or not. Asexuality was a thing, wasn’t it? God. Why had she agreed to come to the city tonight when she could have been getting high with Blair and watching Independence Day or Lord of the Rings for easily the hundredth time?
Faith was waiting for them on the corner with her own trio of girls decked out in ripped jeans and skater hoodies. She smiled when she saw Jamie, and Jamie’s heart fluttered, this time for the right reasons. Faith had left her wavy brown hair down and flipped over one shoulder, and her hoodie hugged her curves nicely.
Okay, so maybe dating wasn’t so bad, after all.
“Hey,” Jamie said, giving Faith a casual nod. Blair and a couple of their skate park buddies had coached her up on how to play it cool with girls. Supposedly being stand-offish made them like you more.
Faith’s smile dimmed a little, and she stayed with her friends as they made their way to the club.
“What are you doing?” Becky hissed.
“What do you mean?”
“Quit acting like a stupid boy and hold her hand.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me,” Becky said, and pushed her forward.
Faith’s friends made room for her, and after a moment, Jamie worked up her nerve and reached for Faith’s hand. The smaller girl glanced up at her, surprised, and then gave her a slow smile that set the butterflies to afluttering like crazy. She glanced over her shoulder at Becky, who winked at h
er.
Huh. Who would have thought Meg’s BFF would be some kind of girl-whisperer?
At the club, Jamie bought Faith a soda and followed her to a table away from the others. The warm-up band was still getting set up, and it was quiet enough that they could talk.
“You had a game today, didn’t you?” Faith asked, sipping her soda.
“Yeah, in Oakland.” Jamie watched her lips close around the straw and wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Emma was still the only girl she had ever kissed, and she’d been too surprised to do much other than close her eyes and—stop it, she ordered herself, pushing the memory away.
“How did your team do?”
“We won,” Jamie said. “What about you? How did you spend the day?”
“Visiting family in the city, which involves a lot of cooking, eating, and playing mahjong.”
“On the computer or in real life?”
“In real life, of course,” Faith said, laughing.
Jamie knew she hailed from a close-knit Filipino family with relatives spread throughout the Bay Area, including a ninety-one year old grandmother who lived in Excelsior not far from this club. Faith was out to her two sisters and a handful of cousins, but no one in the older generations knew she was gay.
They talked about their families and final exams—with only two weeks left in spring semester, their classes were down to the wire—until the music started, and then they drifted back to their group, standing near the center of the crowd. Faith slipped her hand into Jamie’s and she relaxed into the other girl’s touch, smiling as the lights went down, the crowd cheered, and the bass thudded through the small room. She could be happy with someone who wasn’t Emma. This was proof, right?
During the third song, when Faith got bumped by a tall guy for the umpteenth time, she stepped in front of Jamie and leaned back into her. For a moment, Jamie stilled, remembering how it had felt to hold Emma at night, her face pressed into Emma’s hair, arms around Emma’s strong body that fit hers perfectly. Faith was smaller and rounder, and her hair smelled spicy rather than sweet. Tentatively, Jamie slipped her arms around Faith and was promptly rewarded with another dazzling smile.
In the darkness they swayed together, and when Faith reached back and palmed Jamie’s hips, she managed not to flinch. No one had touched her there since France, and her attacker’s grip hadn’t exactly been a caress. Fortunately, this wasn’t even remotely similar, she realized, relieved by the discovery. Faith’s touch was light and tantalizing and made her long for—something. She wasn’t sure what, but the fact that she wanted more and not less seemed like a good sign.
Between bands, Faith went outside with her friends for a smoke.
“She smokes?” Meg asked, watching the younger girls go with a frown.
“I think it’s her friends,” Jamie said. “She doesn’t smell like it, anyway.”
“Have you kissed her yet?” Becky asked.
“Not yet.”
“Ew,” Meg said. “And on that note, I’m going to the restroom.”
“I thought you wanted me to go out with her?”
“I do. I just don’t want to hear details.”
Becky waited until Meg was out of earshot to say, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you want some advice on how to kiss?”
“Why would I need advice?”
“Come on. I know you haven’t exactly been little Miss Lothario.” She held up a hand. “No judgment, only a word to the wise. Do you want to hear it or not?”
“Fine,” Jamie muttered, because she knew Becky had dated more than a few orchestra geeks in the past couple of years. Turned out that while they tended to be on the homely side, musicians were a horny-ass bunch.
“When you kiss her, don’t go all in like you’re trying to stick your tongue down her throat. Kiss her softly and wait for her to make the next move.”
“Why would I try to stick my tongue down her throat?”
“It’s called French kissing, idiot.” And then her face changed. “Oh. Sorry.”
Jamie’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you sorry?”
Becky shrugged, watching the club workers tow an amp across the stage. “No reason.”
“There must be a reason.” Becky still wouldn’t look at her, and all at once Jamie figured it out. “Meg told you, didn’t she?” Her eyes scanned the club. She was going to kill her sister.
“Don’t be mad,” Becky said, her hand on Jamie’s arm. “She was really upset and I’m her best friend. I’m your friend, too, Jamie. You know that, right?”
She glanced at the girl she had known for as long as she could remember. In the past decade, she had watched Meg and Becky go from jump ropes and braces to electric guitars and lipstick, and they had watched her go from roller skates and pony tails to bowling shirts and, well, girls.
“I know,” she said finally, nodding. “I just wish she’d told me you knew. I mean, it makes sense. It didn’t happen only to me. Nothing like that ever does.”
Becky slipped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against her side, eyes on the stage. “I get that I’m not supposed to say this, but if I could, I would find that man and make sure that he couldn’t do anything like that ever again. Like, ever.”
In that moment, Jamie believed her. Musicians were a skinny lot, but they were tough, too.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Faith and her friends approaching. Quickly she pushed Becky away. “Dude, don’t cramp my style.”
“As if. Remember—keep your lips soft. Most teenage boys don’t realize how much better soft kisses are than pulverizing ones. Oh, and touch her cheek softly with your thumb when you kiss her. Girls love that. Got it?”
Jamie wanted to remind her that she wasn’t actually a teenage boy, but she was too busy remembering Emma’s hand on her cheek at the train station. Even the gay girls liked that move. “Got it.”
Faith came right up and leaned against her. She smelled like clove cigarettes, which wasn’t as good as weed but was significantly better than regular cigarettes.
“Did you miss me?” Faith murmured into her ear.
“Um, yeah.” Jamie winced at her own awkwardness.
“Come with me to the bathroom?”
She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
Faith slipped her hand into Jamie’s and tugged her toward the hallway. They passed Meg on the way, who lifted her eyebrows at her sister. Jamie shrugged back and followed her date across the club.
They were barely out of sight of the main room when Faith turned and pushed Jamie against the wall, cupped one hand around the back of her neck, and pulled Jamie’s lips down to hers. Jamie was so surprised that she stood woodenly for a second. Soft lips, she reminded herself, closing her eyes and trying to relax as she pressed her mouth against the other girl’s. She tasted of cloves—and something else. Wait, was that rum? Jamie pushed away her aversion to the taste and focused instead on keeping her lips relaxed as she smoothed her thumb across Faith’s cheek. Her skin was so soft, just like—she banished the name before it could form. And then Faith’s lips parted and her tongue flicked against Jamie’s mouth, and all of a sudden she was dizzy, her head spinning, and she couldn’t breathe because it wasn’t Faith kissing her but someone else entirely, someone tall and rough and who also tasted of alcohol—
Her eyes flew open and she pulled her head back so fast it hit the wall behind her with a dull thud.
“Jamie,” Faith said, her eyes widening. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said quickly, trying catch her breath. Her heart was racing so fast she felt like her vision was darkening. Or maybe that was only the lighting in the hallway. “I, uh, I thought I heard someone coming.”
“Aw, are you shy?” Faith asked, smiling up at her.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Jamie said, faking a smile as she swallowed down the bile that had risen in her throat. She caught the bottom of her shirt in one fist, twisting the cloth nervously.
“Your rep is saf
e with me, Maxwell. Besides, I think it’s cute.”
“Good, because I think you’re cute. Now I hate to say it, but I really have to pee.”
“Me, too.” Faith grabbed her hand again and tugged her down the hallway.
When they returned to the main room, Becky lifted an eyebrow and Jamie gave her a weak smile and a thumbs-up behind Faith’s back.
“What was that for?” she heard Meg ask.
“You don’t want to know,” Becky answered.
The lights fell as the first chords rang through the bar, and Faith took up her position in front of her again. Jamie draped her arms around the other girl, her eyes unseeing on the stage. All she could think of was how Emma had asked her if she might freak out when Amanda kissed her. Now that she had her answer, she wished she could call Emma and talk to her about it, tell her how it had felt and hear Emma tell her that her reaction was normal, that Faith and the French guy were nothing alike but it was still okay to feel what she was feeling. Because she knew that Emma would say all of those things—at least, the old Emma would have. But would post-Seattle Emma be upset with her for making out with someone else? They hadn’t talked about The Kiss again since that first text exchange. But if Emma told her she had kissed someone else—make that when—how would she feel? Shitty, that was how. Which in and of itself was pretty shitty—she’d already told Emma they couldn’t be together. Now she didn’t want anyone else to have her, either? Really cool, Maxwell. And yet, accurate.
Seriously, she shouldn’t even be thinking about Emma at all when there was an available girl who liked her back dancing in the loose circle of her arms. Sighing, she closed her eyes and swayed to the music, trying to meditate until the memories of Seattle and Lyon receded back beneath their separate calluses.
Training Ground Page 24
