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

Track Five: Thank God for Girls -Weezer

    "Shelby," Flat mutters, hardly looking up from his laptop, where he violently types away like an angry mom writing to her best friend after an unsatisfactory trip to T. J. Maxx.

    "...Flat," I say, mimicking his tone and setting down my bag. He finally tears his eyes away from the screen to crack a smile.

    "What are you still doing here? Can't get enough of me?" He chuckles. I roll my eyes, walking the length of the classroom.

    "You couldn't keep me away if you tried Flatty, but no, I'm waiting for someone," I say, turning away so he won't catch my blush or the dazed sparkle that I can't seem to shake from the surface of my godforsaken eyeballs.

    "Bethany?" He asks, a smirk forming on his all too cheeky face. I sigh.

    "Yes, Bethany. What about it?" I face him, hoping my hostility will shut down the conversation. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want a break. Who knew sexuality was so consuming?

    "Nothing. I've just been hearing that you two have gotten pretty chummy. From teachers. Not just you and your loud yapper," He shuts his laptop and stares at me. I raise my chin defiantly.

    "You guys have nothing better to do with your lives?" I ask, once again resorting to insult. Anything to get the attention away from my newfound lesbianism.

    "We're teachers, Shelby, of course we have nothing better to do," He laughs, and I can't help but join in.

    Damn it. Why does he have to be so fucking funny? Why can't he be like a normal person and bore the shit out of me. I guess that's why we're friends--er, comrades. Christ, I really don't know who the hell I am any more.

    "So what is it exactly that you've heard about me?" I say, finally allowing my curiosity to be piqued. Flat raises his eyebrows, a look of concern fleeting across his face. I shrug. I can handle it. I'm motherfucking Shelby Lou Matlin, bitches.

    "Well, the English department seems to think you guys are lovers. Having spotted you two holding hands, sporting glowy, blushy, happy faces. They say they've never actually seen you look happy before. The science wing is convinced that you're just bored of boys and want to seem dangerous and exciting by fucking a girl. Math and arts are both a mixed bag,"

    Well, that was a truly reassuring report. Really makes me feel good about myself. Warm fucking fuzzies. Dangerous and exciting, huh? That's all I need, right, to feel like I'm just edgy enough to have some sort of relevance in this world beyond my putrid personality.

I love how every single person, even grown-ass adults think that it's their place to make a judgement on me. Most of those asshats haven't even had me in a fucking class, let alone spoken to me. When you have a reputation, people seem to think they know every little thing about you. They think that your notoriety gives them the excuse to speculate and analyze every little piece of you. And they think you love it, or that you crave it, or something gross like that-- because all I'm looking for is attention, right? Just a little fucking attention whore.

Well, they're not wrong. I used to thrive on it. Walking down the hallway and having everyone gape at me, whispering, gossiping. I loved it. I could have eaten that shit for breakfast.

Now I wish they'd all fucking get a life-- I eat my own cereal, now. I can't control what they see anymore, because this is just... me. And we all know how much I love being me.

"And what do you think, Flat? Do you run off and tell all of your little nerd friends about all my stupid fucking problems and get off on analyzing why I'm so goddamn fucked up?" I finally say, my voice cracking. God, shut up, shut up.