Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. These characters belong to me, as well as their lives. Do not steal them from me.
Thanks. Enjoy.
~~~
"Did you see that third baseman's face when I told them?!" Emily squeals. "It was. Un. Real."
"I've got to admit, I've never actually seen anyone's jaw drop that far," I agree.
A few hours have passed and we're sitting on her bed drinking tea again. I feel like we're going to do this a lot.
"And I can't believe you know all of that legal shit about the whole sex... sports team... thing." She says as she sets her mug of tea on the ground and lays back.
"Yeah, well, I sorta did a lot of research when I discovered that I was bisexual."
"...And?" She leads me. "What does that have to do with me being allowed to play baseball with all of those guys?"
"Wikipedia," I say. "You would never guess how far that thing will get you."
She laughs and then sighs.
"Aren't you tired? I'm exhausted." She props herself up for a second and nudges me. "Come on, lay down with me."
This is where the lines start to get hazy- you know those lines. 'I like the girl, but just as a friend.' 'Is she hitting on me, or just being nice?' 'I thought we were just friends, but what is she playing at?' Hugging is one thing- I can hug almost anyone, and it means nothing. Laying down next to each other in another beast entirely.
She's propped on her elbows, still looking at me, still smiling. "Don't worry, shorty."
Shorty. At two inches taller, Emily doesn't exactly tower over me.
"There's plenty of room for you." She raises one of her eyebrows and pats the mattress beside her.
Challenge accepted.
"I'm just not sure," I say. "I mean, it's just a twin sized... I don't think even a toddler could fit beside you on this bed, you ginger Amazonion."
"Please," she snorts, "I could fit you in my pocket, Thumbelina. Lie down."
"And risk getting crushed by one of your massive limbs? Never."
"Lie down with me, tiny," She pouts, "I swear I won't hurt you."
"Nope."
"Please?"
"Nay! I shall never lay myself down beside you, ye incredibly tall beast of the infernal pit!" I say, jumping to stand on her bed, brandishing an imaginary sword.
What can I say? Swagger is an ancient concept.
"Hey August," she says, shaking her head up at me from my feet.
"That's 'Lady Augustine' to you, foul beastie!"
From out of nowhere- I don't even feel her move at first- I'm tackled to the bed. Apparently, imaginary armor is no match for my new neighbor.
In only a few seconds, she's got me in a four-point pin (elbows and knees) to the mattress.
"You swore you wouldn't hurt me," I gasp.
She pays no attention.
"I should tell you," she says, her bright hair hanging down to form a ring around our faces, shielding them from all of our non-existent audience, "I have two little brothers who live with my dad and stepmom in South Dakota. Bath time? It usually goes like this."
Though I believe her- few girls would know how to wrestle well if this wasn't the case- I hardly think wrestling little brothers can really compare to wrestling another girl.
Take for instance: size. Little brothers are much smaller than I am. Then there's familiarity: she helped raise them, but only met me a handful of days ago.
I could go on over-thinking it, but I decide instead to find a way out.
"Tell you what. I'll make you a deal," I say, squirming just a little bit underneath her.
"A deal I can't refuse?"
Damn, she's good. A Godfather reference. Be still my incredibly quickly beating heart.
"Yes," I continue. "If I remain laying on the bed with you- because yes, I am tired from school-"
"And from me going MMA on your ass."
"-and from you going MMA on my ass- will you allow me the freedom of my limbs?"
She sits back and thinks about it. She's straddling my hips- something I'm acutely aware of, no doubt about it. After a minute or so of over-dramatic hemming and hawing, she sighs.
"I guess so."
She rolls off of me and looks at the ceiling. I look at her. She starts humming a vague tune that tickles the back of my mind like walking through a spiderweb- I know it's there and I can feel it, but when I reach out to pull it off of my skin, my fingers find only air.
She has a few pieces of hair stringing across her face and she smells like a combination of the dirt from the baseball diamond, the highway our houses sit on the side of, and shampoo. The light coming through her blinds is streaky from the big oak trees outside and it is beaming across both of us, striping us like we're behind bars.
She turns her head and finds me staring.
"What?" she says, biting her bottom lip.
"When did you come out to your parents?"
"At my last birthday party. Dad and the boys flew in to New York from South Dakota for my party."
That's interesting- she used a day dedicated to her family loving her to tell them something that makes some parents disown their children.
"How did you tell them?" I really am curious, though I imagine- what with how straightforward she always is- it was rather in-their-faces.
"I talked my mom into letting me make my own birthday cake. I made one of those rainbow cakes and iced it all white. I put it on a glass plate and taped a piece of paper that said 'Hey! I'm gay!' to the bottom."
I laugh and finish the idea of the story: "So that when they finished the cake, they knew?"
"Yup."
"Props to you." I hold up my fist and she bumps it with her own.
"How about you?"
I know what she's asking, but I play dumb.
"How about me what?"
"How did you come out to your parents?"
"I haven't." I shrug.
"Oh... Shit." She rubs her jaw.
"Shit?" I ask, a little afraid of her answer. "Why shit?"
"I sorta-"
She is interrupted by her mother walking in the front door of the house and calling "Emmy? Are you home?"
"Yeah, mom, I'm in my room!" Emily calls back.
"Emmy?" I mouth to her. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
Her mother continues.
"Is your little bisexual friend here too?"
If not for the resistance that the mattress provided, I would have given myself whiplash from turning my head first from her bedroom door, to Emily herself.
"I sorta already told my mom," Emily finishes.
I sigh and then call out, "Hello, Mrs. Tate!"
"Oh how nice!" Emily's mother- a cheery blonde in her thirties whose job as a yoga instructer had helped her age nicely- opens the bedroom door and hangs her torso in. "It's great to see you again, August. If you girls need anything, just ask, okay?"
Before she has the chance to leave, both Emily and I sit up.
"Actually, Mrs. Tate, there is something you can do for us," I say.
"Oh?"
"Mom," Emily starts, "I didn't know when I told you, but August hasn't told her parents yet, so..."
"Oh my God," says Emily's mom, covering her mouth with both hands, "Oh I'm so sorry! I didn't tell a soul, I swear."
"Do you promise not to tell anyone? Or even hint at it to my parents?" I say, wanting to make myself clear.
Emily's mother walks all the way in the room and holds out both hands, each little finger extended.
"I pinkie promise."
I can't even begin to pretend that I'm too cool for this.
"Me too," says Emily, smiling.
We hook pinkies, and shake on it.
~~~
AN:
Question for comments: What do you think of August's resistance to coming out?
Comment, Vote, and Fan (should you so desire) and tell your friends, please and thank you.
Much Love and Until Next Time
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