The City | GirlxGirl

fourteen ➳

Skylar imagined Blair's small shrug of her shoulders. She thought of the t-shirt she was wearing slipping down her tan shoulders, and became suddenly aware that she was laying in Blair's bed. She had slept here before, but never without Blair snoring beside her. Now she was free to absorb the smell of faint perfume that she swore ran through Blair's veins, and the slight imprint of Blair's body. Where she slept every night. Skylar ran her hand over it.

"Well she's still there, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, go find out her name."

"Fine."

"Just saying, this is probably the weirdest situation I have ever witnessed you being a part of," said Blair, and Skylar could imagine the smile on her lips as she said those words.

With her hand still on the imprint of Blair, Skylar tried to match the smile she was imagining. "Bye," she said, and didn't wait for a response. She hung up, took her eyes off the bed, and then her body. She slipped on the jeans she had worn last night, and ventured out into the hallway.

She was already awake. Light brown hair, now wavy from top to bottom, fell just past her shoulders, draped with the fleece blanket Skylar had pulled out of Blair's closet before they'd gone to bed. Footsteps padded lightly against the hardwood, her feet bare and heels lifting up slightly with every step.

Skylar cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," she began.

The girl's eyes widened. "You want me to go, right?" She didn't make an effort to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"No," said Skylar, and she was surprised at how much she didn't want her to go. "I'm sorry because I forgot your name."

The girl raised an eyebrow, her mouth thinning into a firm line. As if she didn't believe what Skylar had said.

"I know, it sounds dumb." Skylar pressed her thumbs to her temples. "I have a problem with my short-term memory. A bad brain." She laughed. "I forget little details, like your name. Like where I left my freaking hairbrush the other day, that I still haven't found."

"Oh." She nodded. "My name is Jude. That's okay. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get the, uh, the problem? With your memory?"

Jude. How could I forget, Skylar asked herself.

Skylar hovered in the doorway, eyes fixated on Jude's eyes rather than her bare, thin legs. Rather than on how she hugged the blanket around her body so tightly, like she had hugged herself with her arms around her knees last night. But now Jude was smiling. What a difference a night made.

"I've had a few concussions. Three, actually."

Jude's eyes widened, and Skylar knew she was about to ask questions. She may have asserted herself as someone who doesn't inquire about other people, but from one look at Jude, she knew the type. Nosy. Curious. A girl who never stopped asking questions.

"How?" Jude leaned against the kitchen table, and Skylar suddenly felt she should offer her something for breakfast.

Instead, she pulled one of the stools from the counter, positioned it beside Jude, and sank into it. She stared at the empty doorway, the space she had just occupied.

"The first?" Skylar turned slightly, saw Jude nod out of the corner of her eyes, and continued, "My dad asked me to go to the gas station and buy him a pack of cigarettes. I was probably seven. Maybe eight. He told me he'd pay me five dollars. I got on my bike-I never wore my helmet unless I was riding with my parents, but because they weren't there to see me go, I didn't wear it. Just as I turned the corner to the street where the station was, a man turned from the other direction. I swerved to avoid him, lost balance, and fell off. Hit my forehead against the sidewalk. I'm glad he was there, because if not for him, I don't think anyone would have found me for hours. I passed out, but came to not long after. But I was too scared to get up. I didn't understand why my head hurt so much."

"He called an ambulance for you?"

Skylar laughed. "No, just asked me where I lived. He told me to get up, and when I wouldn't, he lifted me onto his back. I had a lot of trouble remembering where I lived. When I got home, my dad didn't think it was serious. He was more mad that I didn't get him the cigarettes. I lay down on the couch, crying, for hours until my mom came home. She took me to the hospital."

Jude's mouth was open. Only a little bit. The kind of open-mouth that conveys that you have no idea what to say.

Skylar laughed again. "It's fine. I'm fine. See?" Skylar tapped her forehead.

Jude smiled half heartedly.

Skylar didn't return the smile. Instead, she said, "You look like a puppy. Like a puppy begging for treats. Stop looking at me like that."

Truthfully, she wasn't mad that Jude had asked about her concussions. She wasn't mad that she had reacted with clear sympathy. She was mad at the feeling Jude stirred inside her, that made heat want to rise to her cheeks.

The front door opened before Jude could respond. Blair came rushing into the hallway, two brown bags in one hand.

"Hi," Blair said, breathless, as if she had just climbed the five flights of stairs to her apartment. She beamed at Jude, and Jude returned the bright smile. Both of them charming, warm. "I'm Blair."

"Jude." A pause, Jude looked down at her fingers in her lap, and then, "Sorry for, uh, staying the night at your apartment. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Before Skylar could interject with reassurance towards Jude, Blair said, "It's fine, it's fine. Anyone that Skylar trusts, I trust. I brought you two lunch."

Jude's eyes lit up. Skylar watched, envious. Blair always had the power of igniting fireworks when she walked into a room. Skylar wasn't mad-she loved the way she felt the moment Blair stepped into the same room as her, and hit her with the award-winning smile. But when she looked at Jude, and saw that the blonde had the same effect on her, Skylar couldn't help but become jealous. She wanted to be the only one that reacted to Blair as if she was the last living person on earth. She wanted to be the only one who felt something when they saw Blair.

And to fuel Skylar's nightmare, Jude and Blair hit it off immediately. Blair had completely guessed on Jude's lunch order, yet she had gotten it perfectly. They laughed so easily, while Blair and Skylar seemed to find arguing more common than humour.

Skylar watched, an outsider, a third-wheel. And she didn't understand why.

In love with Blair. Jealous that someone else had Blair's full attention. That made sense.

But what about Jude? Why had Skylar brought Jude home? Why had she been so nice to her?

Skylar didn't consider herself an unkind person. She just wasn't nearly as kind as other people were. Like Blair. She found herself hesitant to fully give herself to anyone-to give her trust away. There were a lot of fears buried underneath the surface of her skin, and she was scared that the moment she gave in to someone, those fears would boil over, become visible. Skylar didn't want to seem weak, even to herself.

She had seen so many heartbroken girls. Seen so many girls actually dumped by their boyfriends right in front of her. Skylar had been the one who kept the drinks coming; she was sympathetic by provision rather than by words. And, she guessed, she had done the same with Jude. But she had never brought a heartbroken girl home while she was sobbing, while she was still broken.

Something about Jude, and the entire situation revolving her, was not consistent with all of the other situations Skylar had found herself in involving recently single girls. Rather than try to figure it out, Skylar chose to distance herself from it.

She stood up, discarded the half of her food she couldn't bring herself to eat, and told the girls she was going home.

She tried to ignore the frown on Jude's face when she said goodbye.