Just For Me

Chapter 4 || Part: 2

For one month, three weeks, and four days, it had been Reagan who said things first. The first to reveal, the first to share, the first to laugh, hell, she'd been the first to let out a low moan during a kiss.

Amy might have taken over the lead on that one though. Once the seal had been broken, Reagan quickly discovered that her girlfriend wasn't particularly quiet when she was turned on. Which, since about the second week of that one month, seemed to be Amy's perpetual state around Reagan.

But in every other way, it was Reagan who went first. And now, she'd done it again.

She hadn't planned to say it. Really, she hadn't. Not then. Not in the Hester High hallway. Not with Shane standing like three feet away. Not in that blurting, I just can't hold it in case you are just so fucking adorable and if I have to keep this in one more minute I might just die kind of way.

As she steered the car toward her apartment, she resisted the urge to bang her head on the steering wheel. The urge to leap from the car and run as fast and as far as she could. To turn to Amy and tell her look, I didn't mean that thing I said back there, you know, the love thing and how about we just pretend it never happened and go back to my place and maybe I can make you moan enough that you forget I ever opened my mouth....

She couldn't do that. She couldn't take it back. And, truthfully, even if she could, she wouldn't. She'd change the how of it, the where and when, but she would never take it back. She couldn't do that to Amy.

Or to herself.

Reagan might have regretted a lot about the last fifteen minutes, but she could never regret loving Amy. Even if this was the thing that ruined it all, even if she had spoken too quickly, if letting her guard down for those thirty stinking seconds had fucked up the best thing she'd ever had?

She would never regret the feeling. Loving Amy did something to her. She couldn't quite describe it, not without sounding like a cheesy pop song about fireworks and swelling hearts and while she was secretly a little bit of a romantic at heart, she had a rep to maintain, and cool DJ's didn't ramble on about hearts and flowers and sweet nothings like some grade school girl with her first crush.

Reagan let her eyes flick from the road to Amy, staring out the same window she'd had her gaze fixed on since they left the high school parking lot. And she felt, literally fucking felt, her heart skip a beat.

Fuck reputations. She was a goner. She'd wear flowery sun dresses and skip through fields of wildflowers and dress their kids - twin daughters, of course - in matching Christmas dresses for the family holiday card photo, if it meant spending every waking moment with Amy.

God, she was screwed.

And the fact that Amy hadn't said a word, hadn't made a sound, hadn't even breathed audibly since Reagan's sudden blurt? That didn't concern her at all. Nope. Not even a little.

Her heart always raced like this. Her palms were always this sweaty. That slowly spreading gnawing put in her stomach? That was there 24/7/365.

Nope. No problems whatsoever, she thought. Everything fucking five by five over here.

She had a brief moment of panic - absolute fucking terror - and thought about spinning the car out. Slamming into tree sounded mildly better that the deafening fucking silence - and oh, how she understood that phrase now - she'd endured since they left Hester.

But that would only fix the short term.

It wasn't the short term that worried her. Try as she might - and her imagination was trying awfully damn hard - Reagan couldn't imagine Amy breaking up with her just because she'd said... that. She might not know everything about Amy yet, might not be the expert on her that Karma was, but she knew that wasn't Amy's style.