She's Beautiful And Mine (gxg)

Chapter Thirty Two: You're Gay?

Samantha

I pushed her away by the shoulders and stared at her, horrified. My lips were still warm from the touch.

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed, my eyes widening.

She looked scared, her eyes apologetic.

"I-I'm so sorry, Samantha."

She looked like she was about to cry. I glared at her and then at the ground and then back at her. I was flustered, shocked. That's when she broke down. She was crying now, her knees wobbly and weak. I went to her and held her by the waist.

"Hey," I whispered. I felt bad for yelling like that.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, over and over again, like a prayer. I pulled her against me for a hug. She hesitantly hugged me back, crying into my shoulder.

"It's okay," I breathed out, resting my head against her shoulder. She was so tall, her hair long and thick, embracing me in all her warmth.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm really sorry."

"Hey, it's fine. I. . . um. . . I think you mistook me for somebody else," I said, chuckling nervously.

She exhaled. "Yep," she mumbled, letting go of me.

"Is the resemblance that good?" I asked her, genuinely curious. I knew I looked like her but not all that much. We weren't twins, after all.

"You do. But it's mostly just me wanting to be with her so bad, you know? I just miss her so fucking much," she said, as we began walking again.

Harley suddenly came to mind. Her eyes, her smile, her lips. Especially her lips. Our kiss at the lake, her hands burning me with just their touch, my body aching to get closer.

I smiled to myself. "I know the feeling," I replied, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets.

"Do you?" she asked me.

"Yeah."

"Have an ex you're particularly attached to or something?" she asked, chuckling lightly.

"More like, current girlfriend."

She stopped walking. I looked back at her. She looked surprised, her expression skeptical.

"You're gay?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Is it that hard to believe?" I said, walking again. She jogged to my side and started walking with me again, chuckling as she did.

"No, no, I just. . . you don't look gay. At all."

"What do you mean by look gay?" I said, chuckling.

"What I meant is that you don't give me any vibes. And you don't have any tattoos, black nail polish, boyish walk," she remarked.

"Those are all stereotypes. And besides, you don't have any of those things either. Perry did. But you don't."

"Hey, I have tattoos. And I used to have a pixie cut."

"Oh my God, really? I can totally picture you with a pixie cut."

She laughed. "Do I look good in your version?"

I laughed along. "Oh yeah, you look cool."

We got into the apartment complex, laughing and talking.

"So, who's this girlfriend of yours anyway?" she asked me as we made our way into her flat.

"Her name's Harley," I said, taking off my shoes as she switched on the lights.

"Uh huh. And what does she wanna do later?"

"She told me she wants to be a businesswoman," I replied, imagining her in a dark blue suit, all polished and authoritative, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. In bed. I smirked to myself at the thought. I'd like that.

"Nice. Have any photos of her that I can see?"

"Sure," I said, shrugging, taking out my phone and scrolling through the gallery which was filled with her anyway. We settled into the couch as she waited for me to fish one out.

I picked out a photo I took of her on our second date and showed it to Ashley. It was night-time. Harley was in a black jacket and blue jeggings, her hair messy and unruly as usual, falling roughly over her broad shoulders. She was smiling at me, her cheekbones sharp and pink, her lips soft and perfectly defined, her eyes shining, looking right into mine from behind the camera. Her hands were shoved into her jacket pockets. She looked so, so happy. I could feel butterflies swarming in my stomach, my insides doing backflips. She was looking at me like that. Me.

"She definitely looks more gay than you do," Ashley remarked, chuckling to herself. I scoffed and punched her in the arm playfully.

"I don't think I'm gay anyway."

"Hm?"

"I think I might be bisexual."

"Oh," she replied. "Why so?"

"I've dated dudes. Honestly, I've only ever been with guys before her. But nothing ever felt so right like being with her."

"Did you like your other relationships, though? If you mostly didn't, it could've been comp het."

"Comp het?"

"Yeah. It's when you feel like whatever platonic feelings you feel towards the opposite sex is attraction, though it may not have been. And any actual feelings towards people of the same sex are thought of as platonic. It's all a result of heteronormativity."

"Oh. It could've been. My parents were already so disappointed that Perry was gay, they couldn't handle their other child being gay, too. They would insist on me getting a boyfriend, talk to me about watching romances-- straight ones, and my mom would chat with me about marraige and children obsessively. I found out what happened with Perry a little later and so, deep inside, I felt this need to be what they wanted their daughters to be. I felt pressured. I'd go to parties and hook up with random dudes just to make it clear to them and everybody else in my life that I was straight. I'd try my best to be the stereotypical straight, white, popular girl who gets all the good guys, good grades and good clothes."

She nodded in understanding. "Look how that turned out," she said.

"Yep. All that work for nothing. I could've been with girls from the beginning. I could've met Harley much earlier."

"So, I'm guessing you haven't come out yet?"

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. "Like I said, I still don't know whether I'm gay or bi. And, well. . . it's scary, you know. How the fuck did you even do it?"

"I was scared, trust me. Really scared. But my mom and dad were more supportive than I thought. And they really liked Perry, anyway, so there's that."

"I guess I just have to be hopeful, huh?"

"Yep. Hopeful," she replied, and the both of us went quiet after that, revelling in companiable silence, understanding each other on a much deeper level. A personal level.

***

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Love,

queenred