(Lesbian) Heartbreak Hotel and Other Shitty Love Songs (LGBT) (GirlxGirl)

Track Five: Thank God for Girls -Weezer

"I'm a lesbian," I say, my voice cracking. I know that he doesn't know what that means, but somehow it just felt necessary to say the word, to admit it to myself, out loud, with a witness. I take a deep breath, and the air that I exhale comes out shuddery.

"A what?" He says, still smiling. I search his eyes. Please don't grow up to hate me. Please don't think I'm weird, or gross, or perverted. Please don't think about me what I already think about myself. Is that really even fair to ask?

"A lesbian is a woman, like myself, who is only attracted to other women. So, when you said that I was dating Bethany, you were right. That's the word for," I swallow. "For people like me, and people like Bethany,"

He stares at me.

Fuck.

"Am I a lesbian?" He asks, sounding out the word carefully. I chuckle.

"Only if you're a girl," I grin, relief flooding through my body like sunshine on cold skin. He considers this for a second before giggling.

"I'm not a girl," He smiles back, running his stubby hands through his thick red hair, making it stand up. I reach over to fix it.

"Then you're probably not a lesbian. But it's ok, you're still cool," I smirk as he whacks my hand away. "Can you do me a favor, though, little man?" I ask, grabbing onto his hand. I try not to cringe as the sticky peanut butter transfers to my palm.

"Uh-huh," He nods, still grinning at me. His expression had hardly changed throughout the entire encounter, and I have never been more thankful to see his smile.

"Can you keep this just between us? Just for a little while? It's kind of a big deal and I just want to keep it a secret," I squeeze his hand, hoping that he obliges.

"Why is it a big deal?" He asks, looking legitimately dumbfounded.

"I don't know, it just kinda is," I mutter, lowering myself onto the chair opposite him, realizing that I was suddenly completely exhausted.

"That's stupid," He remarks, his tiny little eyebrows furrowing. I burst out laughing, and he quickly follows suit.

"It is," I say, in between chortles, tears forming behind my eyes. I am not about to start crying. This is good, this is progress.

I am okay.

I will be okay.

And somehow, the simplicity of our interaction made me hate myself just a little bit less. This, too, is progress.

I honestly don't know if I made the right decision. Some people might say that telling the loud-mouthed, redheaded cutie pie could be my downfall, but you know what? I don't really give a fuck. Or ar least, I'm trying not to. It's not every day that I allow myself to make these stupid, split-second instinctive decisions. Instincts fuck you over where plans rarely fail.

But I can't seem to get this right. Everytime I think I have it under control, Bethany flips her silky fucking mermaid hair, or wears strawberry-scented perfume, or throws me a maddening dimpled smile. There's no way to plan for girls like Bethany. They come into your life and completely fucking destroy it. I've dedicated my entire adolescence to mastering the craft of breaking hearts, but Bethany does it just by walking into a fucking room. I want to break her heart, but I keep getting distracted by how badly I want to make her smile. And laugh. And before I get R-rated, I just want her to be mine.

I know, vomit, right? As if I could become any more predictable.

I'm supposed to be waiting for Bethany to be done with her make-up psychology test after school so we can go get frozen hot-chocolates or something stupid and cutesy like that, but I find myself wandering through the halls, stopping dead in front of Flat's room. Against my better judgement-- and we all know that I lack that-- I welcome myself in to annoy him.