Delilah
Present Day
“City girl!” Bec’s smile is infections. “Here, drink this.”
The whiskey bottle is shoved toward me a little carelessly, forcing me to grab it with both hands so it doesn’t fall to the ground. “I’m good.”
“Come on,” she pleads, her words slightly slurred. “Just try it!”
“I—” the protest dies on my tongue as the man I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of appears at my side. Maverick leans down so he can speak in my ear. He smells like campfire and whiskey and the outdoors. It’s more intoxicating than any alcohol ever could be.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His voice is a deep rumble, the warmth from his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
“I’ve never had any hard liquor before,” I admit to him quietly.
He nods empathetically. “If you want to try it, you can. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I look up and study his handsome face, finding that I believe him.
I know he’s had some alcohol tonight, but he’s clearly far from drunk.
He’s more relaxed, but still alert. Still himself.
Unlike Gabriel, who only becomes angrier and more aggressive when he drinks.
I study the bottle of amber liquid, giving it a quick sniff.
I recoil and scrunch my nose in distaste, which makes Maverick chuckle.
I look back at Bec and raise the bottle toward her with a grimace. “Cheers,” I say, though it sounds more like a question.
I put the glass bottle to my lips and tip my head back.
The spicy liquid burns my throat, making me cough and sputter.
Bec claps me on the back while laughing, handing me her water bottle.
I drink deeply to soothe my throat, and a warm, fuzzy feeling settles in my belly. I hand the whiskey bottle back to Bec.
“So?” she asks expectantly.
I shake my head. “I think I’ll stick with water. Thanks.”
She takes another drink from the bottle and winks at me. “Suit yourself, beautiful.”
My cheeks heat as she gives me a sly smile, her eyes raking down my body appreciatively. I’m dressed in borrowed, baggy clothes, my hair’s a frizzy mess, and I haven’t had makeup on since that first night here. And yet, she’s looking at me like I’m desirable.
Now, the whiskey in my belly isn’t the only thing making me feel warm. I let myself look at her, too, noticing how soft her lips look, wondering how her curves would feel under my hands, how her body would feel pressed against mine. What it would be like to kiss her.
Our eyes lock, and her smile grows, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. My whole body is buzzing, and a deep sense of shame washes over me. I should not be thinking these thoughts.
“Excuse me,” I say quietly, hurrying away from the group. I find a quieter spot and sit down on a fallen tree, breathing heavily. I put my head in my hands and look down at the ground, until the snapping of a twig on the ground has me whipping my head back up.
Bec stands there, her expression unreadable in the dark. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I parrot, still breathing hard.
She takes a seat next to me on the downed tree. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just…” I swallow. “I think I’m confused?”
“What are you confused about?” Her tone is soft, careful.
“I’m not supposed to feel what I was feeling.”
“What were you feeling?”
I groan, shoulders hunching as I curve inward.
Bec reaches out and places her hand on my knee. “We’re friends, Della. You can talk to me.”
Her hand on my knee feels nice. I can feel the heat of her body seeping through my pants as her thumb rubs back and forth gently. “I think I was feeling attracted… to you?”
Her laugh is light, easy. “Gee, what a compliment.”
That gets a small chuckle out of me. I try again, feeling more at ease. “I was thinking about what it would be like to touch you. To… kiss you.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she teases, bumping her shoulder into mine.
“I’ve never had any thoughts like that about another woman before.
” At least, I don’t think I have. I try to recall if I’ve ever looked at another woman and noticed her beauty, and one person comes to mind.
Seven. I knew her so long ago, I’d buried any unnatural—as Headmistress would say—urges, wrote off any feelings I had for her as those of mere friendship.
“I get it can feel scary to acknowledge that. But feeling physically attracted to someone isn’t wrong, even if that person is someone of the same sex.”
“I’m married,” I say quietly. I don’t know why I’m whispering, it’s not like it’s a secret.
“To a man who’s never even made you come!” Bec throws her hands up.
“Bec!” I chastise, placing my palm over her mouth.
“What?” Her protest is muffled behind my hand. “It’s true!”
A laugh bubbles out of me, followed by another, until we’re both in hysterics.
Once we’ve finally calmed down, she looks at me again, more serious this time. She turns toward me and places her hand on my cheek, and my heartbeat speeds up again. “Is this okay?”
I nod, biting my lip.
“I may joke around, Della, but you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy. Someone who puts your wellbeing and pleasure above their own. Someone who you choose.”
A tear slides down my cheek at her tenderness, and she leans in and kisses it away. My breath hitches at the contact, and my lower belly flutters. Maybe she’s right. “Bec?”
“Yeah, city girl?” Her voice is barely audible.
“Would it be all right if I kissed you?” I blurt. “Just to see what it feels like? I don’t want you to think I’m using you or taking advantage of you, I just thought maybe—”
“Shh.” Her pointer finger presses against my lips. “I would be honored.”
“Are you sure?” I ask again, searching her eyes in the moonlight.
She smiles. “I’m sure. I get to help my friend discover a new part of herself and I get to kiss a beautiful woman in the process? It’s a win-win for me.”
I try to smile, but my heart is pounding so fast it’s hard to focus on anything else.
Bec turns toward me, straddling the log, and gives me one final nod of permission.
I scoot over so I don’t have to lean so far and wet my lips with my tongue.
I raise my hand to her cheek and lean in, keeping my eyes open until our lips are only an inch apart.
She smells good, sweet like soap and a bit spicy from the whiskey. I close my eyes and eliminate the final inch of space between our lips, pressing mine to hers tentatively.
I was right. Her lips are so soft. Warm and comforting and pleasant, like lying on a plush bed while the afternoon sun streams through the window.
I’ve only ever kissed one person—Gabriel, obviously—and he rarely kisses me, when we’re intimate or otherwise. When he does kiss me, it’s not tender or affectionate. It’s rough and demanding, like he’s taking something rather than giving. Kissing Bec is the complete opposite.
Both our lips part at the same time as our tongues start to explore each other.
She tastes like smoke and cinnamon, and the warmth in my belly spreads.
The place between my legs starts to throb like it did when I touched myself the other night, and my underwear grows damp with need.
I’m aroused, kissing another woman—something that only a few days ago would’ve made me feel like a freak. Instead, I feel free. Alive.
I pull away and open my eyes, looking at Bec with a sense of wonder.
“Well?” she asks, breathing heavier than normal.
I bite my lip to hide my smile. “It was nice. Thank you.”
Her smile is proud, and a little mischievous. “You’re a good kisser, city girl.”
I laugh. “Am I?”
She nods. “Definitely.”
A silence falls between us, and I can’t help but question if I’ve ruined the only friendship I’ve managed to make here. “You sure it was okay?”
Her hand lands on my knee once again, giving it a quick squeeze. “More than okay. And I meant what I said. I’m happy to help you figure out who you are outside of the Brotherhood’s influence. We all go through a season of self-discovery after we get out.”
Is that what I’m doing, rediscovering myself? “Does this mean I’m gay?”
Bec snorts her amusement. “Maybe a little. Straight people don’t usually ask to kiss their same-sex friends.”
I blush. “Oh.”
“But you’re still attracted to men too, right?”
One man in particular comes to mind. Hazel eyes and sandy-brown hair and a presence that demands my attention. A man who cares for others with everything he has and makes them feel safe. A man who leads not with cruelty, but with integrity. “Yes.”
Bec gives me an easy smile. “Maybe you’re bi. It doesn’t really matter how you identify, Della. What matters is that you feel safe enough to be your true self.”
I return her smile, finding that I do feel safe. “Thank you.”
“Let’s get back to the party,” she suggests. We stand and link arms, walking back to the bonfire with a level of comfortability that didn’t exist between us before.
The party’s still going strong. Someone’s playing a guitar while everyone stands around the fire chatting amiably.
The mood is high despite the camp’s recent upheaval, so it’s easy to relax and enjoy the atmosphere.
I spend the evening talking with Bec and Liv, both of whom are kind enough to introduce me to some of the other camp residents.
To my surprise, I don’t sense any animosity from my new acquaintances.
Curiosity, sure. But it seems we’ve all come to accept each other’s presence, even if I won’t be here forever.
Maverick is always in my line of sight; not in an annoying or overbearing way, here’s just there.
Somehow offering comfort simply by proximity.
I don’t know what time it is, but I know it’s late.
Late enough to have me yawning several times in the span of a few minutes.
I feel him—sense his powerful presence—behind me and turn around.
I shiver, noticing the heat radiating off his huge body in waves.
I turn around and look up at him. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says, taking off his flannel and wrapping it around my shoulders. The simple, kind gesture makes me want to cry.