Let Her Go (girlxgirl) (lesbian story)

Chapter Sixty-six

"We should talk," she told my neck and I whined.

"I'm tired of talking."

She pulled away, "You're funny. Don't try to get out of this." She eyed me. "Or would you rather I stormed away again?"

And have to run? "Nope! We can talk, talking's good, how's right here for talking?" I plopped down on the patch of cement directly beneath me.

"I was going to suggest we go somewhere for coffee but I guess here's good too." Her gaze flicked across the ground suspiciously as she began to gingerly crouch.

"Okay," I leapt up, "let's go somewhere else." Zoey breathed a sigh of relief.

"I didn't really call your mom, by the way. I was just trying to get you to talk. I'm sorry for being manipulative."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm the one who should be apologising. That said, I was a callous bitch and I'm getting a little too self-absorbed, for which I'm truly sorry from the bottom of my heart." I tried my hardest not to sound sarcastic saying this but it's harder than you'd think when you have a Scottish accent. She accepted my apology with grace and we continued chatting as though we'd never argued. "You know," I linked arms with her as we walked, "I love how you can't stay pissed at me."

"It's my overly understanding nature."

"Or my overly-whelming epicness..." I made a face, "that didn't really work, did it?"

"No."

I shrugged, "Well shit at least I tried."

"You may not be epic but you are the most irritatingly loveable person ever if that makes you feel better."

I smirked, "Even more than Jonas, huh, huh?" I was elbowing her suggestively and she blushed crimson.

"Shut up."

"I've been meaning to ask, have y'all fucked yet?" Zoey pushed me so hard I stumbled. "Is that a yes?" I yelled, laughing victoriously. "Say no if you mean yes!"

"Yes! ... No! I'm getting confused!" She did look pretty flustered. I laughed harder and gave her a one-armed hug.

"Don't get so embarrassed, you know I'd never judge you. How could I, given my love life?"

"True," she frowned deeply, "you're far too young to be getting up to all that crazy, kinky ass shit."

"But it's so much fun," I teased, crossing my eyes and smiling dreamily.

She hit my arm, "No! You will not think like that around me."

"I can't help it, I'm a sex addict."

She laughed, "How the fuck are you going to cope when Baste's in Russia?" I smiled internally. Zoey knew me so well. I didn't even have to tell her I wasn't going, she just knew and the cuteness of it made my chest swell. Even as we continued talking, my heart remained warm and fuzzy.

"FaceTime, maybe," I mused, "but it won't be the same." Then my face cleared, "I'll just have to join in with you and Jonas."

"I'm sure he wouldn't complain," Zoey said, rolling her eyes.

"Is that an admission of intercourse!?"

"No!" She exclaimed, "It's just that two girls is every guy's dream. Where in there did you find an admission? There was no admission."

"Whatever you say! Let's go in here," and I pulled her into a café.

We discussed banalities over a macchiato, hot chocolate and selection of cakes (just the essentials) but I could tell by the way she occasionally paused, staring into her drink and clenching her jaw, that she was refraining from asking something important. I waited to see how long she could control herself. It was funny, in the most affectionate way possible. The answer: half a mug.

"Robyn, you're not going away, are you?"

"No."

"I thought not." She drummed her fingernails against the plate; that wasn't what was really bothering her.

"Ask already!"

She glanced up and away, "I don't want to pry."

"It's not prying." She didn't reply. "Okay, you're a nosey bitch but who cares? I love you for it, don't change."

"Okaay..." She still looked uncertain but taking in my earnest expression, her forehead smoothed, "Yeah, you're right. I'm fucking awesome."

"Exactly, so what is it? You're killing me here!" She shuffled around a bit, seeming to prepare herself mentally. I got scared wondering what on Earth she might say. Random scenarios flashed through my mind: telling me I was an asshole for not appreciating my friends, calling me an idiot again, asking me to attend abstinence classes. Oh, God, why had I convinced her to speak!?

"Um, well, I guess I'm just going to come out and say it." She drew in a deep breath, "What's going on with Baste?" Shit. I didn't see that coming. "Why is she going home? And why the fuck are her siblings acting like she's dying?" I shrugged and did my own share of staring into beverages. "She tells you everything, you can't pretend you don't know. And even if you said nothing I wouldn't believe you because she looks like shit." I glanced up sharply at that. "No offence, but anyone could see it. Something's going on and I need to know what. Not even for her sake, but so I can support you and do what a best friend is meant to."

"It's not my place to tell."

"Robyn." Zoey looked more serious than I think I'd ever seen her. Or maybe that was just my paranoia.

"I'm not talking about this, change the subject." She looked defiant. "Do it now or I'm gone." I began to rise warningly in my chair.

Zoey glanced around the cafe, then met my eyes again with composure, "Oh, hey there. You know, I was thinking of this really great and totally different idea of throwing Baste a going away party." I narrowed my eyes. "I'm serious! It would be fun."

"I guess," I nibbled at a piece of lemon cake, "but you'd have to get things arranged quickly, she's leaving tomorrow morning."

"Okay, we'll do it tonight!"

"Woah," I held out a hand to stop her, "there's no 'we' about this. I will not be included."

"Don't be a punk! She's your girlfriend!"

"I don't like parties."

Zoey smirked, "By which you mean you'd rather be fucking." I choked on the air. "There's going to be time; everyone will be out by one, promise."

"Not long enough. It has to keep us going for weeks, months possibly, we can't be wasting any time on you lot. No offence."

She threw a rolled up mass of cake at my face, "Shut up and tell me what Baste drinks."

"I'm not involved!" I pelted her with my own half eaten cake.

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you-" we both froze as Zoey's badly aimed red-velvet-missile smacked a customer across the back of the head. He bellowed with rage; we ran for the door.