Chapter Nine
Julia
With my last final taken, I celebrate by attending one more party with friends before we head home for the summer.
I could’ve gone home this afternoon, but there’s something to be said about hanging around campus with no pressure of classes or exams or any sort of obligation.
That and Alex has to work tomorrow, which means she isn’t coming home until Sunday, so there really isn’t a rush to get back.
“Congratulations on completing your first year of college,” Emily says, handing me a drink.
“And congrats on completing your third.” We tap our cups together and drink. I’ve never been a huge fan of beer, but Emily and her roommates say we have to kick the keg before the party ends since they have to return it before noon tomorrow. So beer it is, I guess.
She sits on her swivel chair and twists so she’s facing me. “Are you all packed?”
“Mostly.” I glance around her bedroom. It’s exactly how it was the last time I was here. She hasn’t packed a single thing. “It doesn’t look like you even started.”
Her laugh makes my stomach swish pleasantly. “That’s because I haven’t.”
She takes a moment to examine her room, and I use the distraction to take her in.
Ever since my breakup with Tyler, I’ve been noticing things.
Not things, really, but people. Girls. Attractive girls.
Like the barista with the undercut who always winks when handing over my drink.
Or the hot Australian bartender when Chloe and I went to Bird Neck for a few days over spring break.
And Emily. Especially Emily. The way she stares at me and smiles whenever our eyes meet.
The way my palms start to sweat when she sits close or the way I find myself thinking of ways to touch her.
Lately, I can’t stop staring at her lips, wondering what they’d feel like pressed against mine.
“I really want to kiss you.” And oh my God, did I just say that out loud?
The cup she’s holding freezes halfway to her mouth.
She stares at me, her eyes darkening, and my instinct is to take it back.
To tell her maybe three beers is past my limit, but the truth is, I do want to kiss her.
I’ve wanted to ever since that windy day in March when she pushed the hair from my face and brought me a caramel latte after class. I square my shoulders and stare back.
“Then maybe you should do something about that,” she says in the most seductive voice I have ever heard.
It’s the last bit of confidence I need.
I place my cup on the floor and slowly pull her chair toward the bed. She barely has time to dispose of her own cup before she’s close enough for me to lean forward and press my lips against hers.
A fun and surprised sound escapes her mouth, but she quickly recovers, pushing forward, cupping my face and kissing me back.
And holy hell, it’s amazing.
It’s different than it was with Tyler or with any of my past boyfriends. It’s softer. Sweeter. More intense.
Then she’s lifting herself from her chair to, I hope, sit next to me on the bed. Except that’s not what she does. She walks away, and I whimper because it’s been so long since I’ve made out with someone and—
Oh. She’s just closing the door.
When she walks back, the second she gets close enough, I grab the front of her shirt and pull her close. She comes to me easily and puts her hands over top of mine and guides them to the hem of her shirt. Together, we pull it over her head.
Then her lips are on my neck, and my hands are on her shoulders. She’s warm. And so, so soft. I have the urge to feel more of her. To feel her skin against my own.
I yank off my shirt and toss it next to hers on the floor. Her lips trail lower. Down my neck and along my collarbone. She drags her mouth lower, and I watch as she descends down my chest.
Her wavy hair falls down her shoulders, and I blink.
Because for a split second, I imagine it’s Alex.
Except Emily’s hair is a shade too dark and the waves a touch too large.
It’s a heartbeat. It’s no time at all, yet enough time to make me hesitate.
Because in that single second, I wished that it was Alex sucking on the swell of my breast.
Emily must notice because she stops and sits back, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just…” I try to smile. To think of a way I can explain this without sounding totally pathetic. Without confessing that for a breath in time, I wanted to have sex with my best friend. “It’s not you.”
Emily groans and pulls away just as I wince.
I’ve been on the other end of the “it’s not you, it’s me” conversation, and it sucked. It’s not what I wanted to say, especially not after how amazing Emily was making me feel. She did nothing wrong. In fact, she was doing everything right.
“I’m sorry. You’re amazing. You make me feel amazing.
And you’re so hot. So very hot.” To emphasize my point, I openly take another look at her without a shirt.
At least now she looks more curious than frustrated.
“I know I started…” I motion between us.
“This. It’s just, I don’t know how…I’ve never…
” I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try again.
“I’ve never had sex with another woman before. ”
Her expression softens. She puts her hand on my thigh and squeezes. The touch almost makes me want to say fuck it and insist that we keep going.
Almost.
But the thought of going any further also terrifies me. What if I don’t know what to do? What if I can’t climax? What if I can’t make her climax? What if I don’t like it?
What if I do?
Emily takes my hand. “Look, don’t apologize. I get it. I do. You’re not ready.”
The heat inside my body dies a bit when she says it aloud. Because as turned on as I am, and as great as she is, she’s right. I’m not ready.
When I was fifteen, Jeremiah Dredger and I snuck underneath the bleachers after school to make out.
He got a little handsy, and when I had second thoughts, he took it personally.
He made me feel like a tease and said it was crappy to get someone worked up only to change my mind.
It’s always stuck with me, a nagging part of my mind telling me over and over again not to lead people on.
Sometimes it can be louder than the part of my brain that screams, “It’s okay to say no! Decent people will still like you!”
And then there’s Luka Petrov. I didn’t want to lead him on, too, so when things got serious, I let him take my virginity. Afterward, when I whispered that I thought I might love him, he told me it wasn’t like that for him, that he was just having fun and not to be so clingy.
Emily scoots closer and dips her head, catching my gaze and giving me a pointed look. “Seriously, I promise, it’s fine.”
She doesn’t seem upset, and it’s clear she’s not Jeremiah Dredger or Luka Petrov, but I still can’t help that nagging little bit of guilt. “You are so nice and super gorgeous, and quite possibly one of the best kissers I’ve ever made out with.” She smiles. “But I’m going through some things.”
“You don’t have to explain. Although, mentioning how attractive I am over and over doesn’t hurt. Here.” She hands me my shirt and pulls on her own.
I’m not sure where we go from here. Or what comes next. “Are we…”
“We’re cool,” she’s quick to assure. Again, all the right things. But the longer we sit here, the more awkward it starts to feel.
“You don’t have to go,” she says at the same time I say, “I should probably go.”
She nods and doesn’t push.
“I need to finish packing.” It’s a lame excuse, we both know it. But it’s an excuse all the same.
She gently touches my arm. “Hey, if you ever change your mind…” She gestures to herself. “I’ll be here.”
I smile. “Thank you for a fun night. See you when I get back?”
“Absolutely.” She looks as though she wants to lean in for a hug but decides otherwise. I stand, not knowing what else to do, and head for her door. “Julia?” I turn to face her. “When you’re ready, whoever you decide to take that next step with, she’s a lucky girl.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I quickly leave her room and the party.
The second I get to my dorm, I rush to the sink and splash some cold water on my face and stare at my reflection. I can’t believe I almost had sex with Emily. I can’t believe how badly I wanted to have sex with Emily.
At least up until the part where I wished she was Alex.
I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. This is not ideal. This is so far from ideal. This is “What the actual fuck?”
“Since when do I want to sleep with my best friend?” I ask my reflection.
She doesn’t answer.
“I’ve officially run out of tissues.”
“Here.” My mother hands me one and proceeds to dab at her own eyes. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.
Chloe appears with a drink, something bubbly that she probably sweet-talked one of the servers into giving her. “Where did Alex go?”
“I think to change.” Which is honestly a shame because she looked stunning in her tea-length olive bridesmaid dress. “How’s my makeup?”
“And mine?” my mother asks.
Chloe takes her time examining our faces. “Still pretty solid considering how hard you both were crying.”
I glare. “Like you didn’t cry your face off during the dances.”
She takes a sip of her champagne. “Not denying it.”
The sunset ceremony in the gardens was nothing less than perfect and the dances, oh my God, the dances.
Their first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Avery was super sweet.
They looked so happy and so in love. And then Alex and Richard.
Watching them giggle while he led them around the dance floor, I thought my heart was going to explode.
But it was the mother and son dance that really got me.
To be fair, I wasn’t the only one. I’m fairly certain there wasn’t a dry eye in the reception room.
Mason, who’s a good head taller, somehow looked like a little boy with his mother all over again.
Like the time in the fourth grade when I spent the day at Alex’s when school was closed for snow.
We had a dance party in the kitchen while baking cookies.
Alex grabbed my hand, and Mason grabbed his mom’s.
I’ll never forget the way he spun her around that kitchen, head thrown back, and the sweetest laughter carrying over the music.
I spent half the dance watching Alex. It made my chest ache with a bittersweet kind of pain. Because I knew what she was thinking. I could see it on her face even from across the room. It was fear, pain, relief, and happiness all rolled into one.
“I’m so glad Lina got the chance to dance with Mason,” my mom says as if reading my mind.
“Deb,” my dad gently warns.
“I know, I just, it was so nice. That’s all I’m saying.” My mom presses the tissues back to her eyes.
And here come my tears all over again.
“Okay, we’re going to go stand out on the balcony and get some air.” My dad takes my mom by the shoulders and gently starts to direct her away, despite her protests.
I’m thankful. I don’t need my mom voicing the quiet parts out loud.
That Mason may not make it to his own wedding.
“We’ll come see you in a bit,” I promise and carefully swipe under my eyes.
I turn expectantly to Chloe, who gives me a thumbs-up and snags another flute from a server who’s passing by.
“You need another edible, or will this suffice?” she asks, handing me the glass.
The server gives us a strange look, and I can feel my face flush. “Definitely not another edible.”
Not after the last time I had one with her. She was fine. Me? I spent most of the night staring at a turned-off television, wondering where all the little people who lived inside went.
I chug half of the drink, and I’m disappointed to find that it’s not champagne but sparkling cider.
“Yeah, the trays with the olive napkins on them are nonalcoholic. The sand-colored napkins are the ones with the booze.” Chloe swaps our drinks, and I finish hers, wincing when I down the remainder of her champagne. “Think we’re going to get lucky tonight?”
The idea of hooking up with someone I don’t know makes me shudder. I couldn’t even go through with it with Emily, and I’ve known her for months. “Probably not,” I say and sigh.
“Don’t find anyone here attractive enough?”
We both look around the reception space. Chloe appears to be searching for no one in particular while I try to spot Alex.
“No, I do. Just not sure I’m ready yet.”
Chloe nods solemnly and squeezes my shoulder. “I get that.”
I’m sure she thinks I’m talking about Tyler.
We were together for almost a year and a half.
But it’s been six months since we broke up, and I’m fine.
It’s just, I haven’t told her about Emily.
Or about how I’ve found myself having scandalous thoughts about Alex.
How do you tell your best friend that you’re crushing on your other best friend?
Just then, Alex walks in wearing a loose-fitted, light blue linen shirt and matching pants. She’s swapped out her heels for white flip-flops, and her hair is free of bobby pins. A guest intercepts her immediately, and I watch her mingle.
Seeing her across the room has always brought a sense of comfort, like spotting a harbor during a storm, but now something else mixes with it. Like anticipation wrapped with yearning. It’s new and exciting and terrifying.
“Come on,” Chloe says, and gently leads me to the hors d’oeuvres table, her tone careful, like I’m going to fall apart over Tyler all over again. “Snacks always help.”
If she only knew my inner turmoil went so much deeper than getting over an ex. But still. Cheese may not give me the answers to my burning sexual identity questions, but it sure doesn’t hurt.