Two months had passed and I have been spending most of my time with Jaq. I loved being with her. It makes me feel safe. It makes me feel not alone.
I could tell she was happy with my company, too. She smiled a lot and laughed a lot. We knew more about each other; she told me she went to New York for her freedom. I never understood what she meant by that, at least not yet.
*
The two of us were in the living room, sitting next to each other, telling each other stories about ourselves while drinking some of the last vodka Jaq had left.
The thing is, I always avoid topics about myself. I never want anyone to know anything about myself, for anyone to know about my past.
Jaq was the same. However, she felt safe with me. She trusted me so badly that I basically know everything about her. She had no siblings of any sort. Her hometown is Los Angeles. Her full name is Jaqueline Alexander.
"Tell me about you, this time," Jaq says. Her head was laying on my lap as I rested my back on the couch.
"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to."
She laughed. Thinking I was joking, I could see it on her face.
"It's been two months! Come on, since we're both going to die anyway, just shoot!"
I didn't like it when she said we were going to die. Even though I attempted suicide, at that moment, I wanted to. I did not like it when she used the word 'We'. Because I knew she meant it. I don't want her to die. I admit, I care about her deeply. The more I got to know her good and bad sides, the more I became interested in her. The more I got attached, and the more I didn't want to lose her.
"Fine," I say in defeat.
Should I just lie? Everything inside me tells me I should, but somehow I have this feeling that I can't. I trust this Jaq the Ripper.
I breathe in before letting it all out and spoke.
"I went to New York for a fresh start, to forget about my past. I want to forget cause it traumatizes the shit out of me. Cause everyone thinks it's easy to move on from the death of your loved one," I scoffed as I reached for another shot of vodka, I don't want to say all this while I'm sober.
"...but it isn't. Everyone acts like they're there for you, but truly, they don't fucking care about what you're going through." I looked down at Jaq, she was quiet.
The room fell silent for a while.
Until Jaq softly scoffed, "Tell me about it." She sat up as I adjusted my seat. I watched her pour another drink into her glass and drank it aggressively. She puts the glass down and sighs.
The atmosphere between us changed. I'm a little worried it's because of what I said. I shouldn't have said that just like that.
"I'm sorry if I said something tha-"
I looked at Jaq to meet her gaze, to say those words genuinely to her while looking her in the eye, assuring her I never intended to say something that was clearly striking for her.
But as I did, I realized she's been staring at me. Far too long. Her eyes were locked on mine. The two of us didn't say a word. Before I could even think of anything else.
I felt her lips against mine.
She kissed me.
And goddamn, was she quick.
I was shocked at first, but I didn't pull away. In fact, I kissed her back, and this time I felt the tenderness of her lips. She kissed me gently. I could not keep but soften my eyes shut. I felt her body press against mine, all I could feel was her warmth. I couldn't push her away. Instead, I felt powerless. As if she took full control over me, over my whole body.
It was she who pulled out of the kiss first. It left me wanting more. If I'm being honest, I don't want her to stop what she's doing to me right now. The power she holds over me, over my soul, over my very being, just by a single kiss.
"You have very kissable lips, you know?" I say I couldn't help but smile and compliment her beautiful lips.
"I know, darling. I know," she whispered through my ear, which made my whole body tremble like electricity passed through me.
Her fingers slowly ran through my neck, cupping my face, pulling me in for a kiss, a harder, deeper kiss. Suddenly she went on top of me, and I felt her everywhere; her knees between my thighs, her hands on my waist slowly brushing it down my thighs, as she pursued my lips as if it was only hers to kiss.
Her tongue slips inside my mouth. Nobody had kissed me like this before, a kiss that somehow makes my heart explode. It made me want more of her, again and again and again.
She kissed me everywhere, from my lips to my neck and down to my stomach, as she went even deeper between my legs, and kissed me more.
"Don't stop," I whispered, I could not help breathing heavily.
"Don't worry, love. I won't."
From the way she said it, the way I felt her breath between my legs, I was certain she wouldn't. Even if I begged her to. But I don't want her to stop.
The only thing that mattered to me at that moment was her. Just her.
*
I haven't been attracted to women since I was in my sophomore year.
Celia, my best friend since first grade, and I had a sleepover at her place. Her parents were out of town, so she insisted I sleep at her place for the company.
We watched some movies, drank some gin that Celia's parents had in the kitchen. We got drunk, but not too much.
After we cleaned the living room of our messes. I hop into Celia's shower, just as I did for the last nine years. I got used to it. The smell of her shower just hits differently after she takes a bath. It's somehow a fresh and freeing smell with a fragment of sweet perfume linked to it. I loved it.
After I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, and changed into my pajamas, I went out the door to find Celia arranging my bed on the floor.
Aren't I sleeping in the guestrooms?
I examined her up and down as she sets my bed. She wore an oversized black shirt; she wasn't wearing any pajamas, just some plain black panties and her raven hair was down by her shoulders. She rarely dresses like this when I'm around her. But, if I were being honest, I would say she was incredibly hot in that outfit. Although, she is, in fact, already hot.
"You can sleep in my bed," She states.
"Don't I usually sleep in the guest rooms? You have ten of it, by the way." It's true though.
I wonder why she let me sleep in her own bedroom this time. Yes, we are best of friends, but she rarely lets me sleep here. She let me use her bathroom, but after that, she shoves me out the door and forces me to sleep in the guestrooms.
"Oh. So you don't want to sleep in my bed? Too bad." She smirked. Of course, I did. I don't want to sleep in the guestroom all alone.
"No, I do. I just- It's weird," I stutter at my words. Her smirk makes me think she's planning something, something bad.
Celia went to close the lights. She sets down on the bed on the floor, just as I did on her bed. We were both silent for a few minutes. I wanted to speak, to open my mouth and say something, anything, to break the silence between us.
But, I couldn't. Until minutes had passed and I lost my chance to. I closed my eyes shut and hoped the silence stays the same so I can rest.
"Nevermind, forget the fucking floor." I heard Celia mumble. I heard her heavy footsteps going towards me.
"Move," She said in an icy tone.
"What are you doing?" I sat up on the bed as she laid down beside me, making herself comfortable.
She didn't answer me; she stayed quiet. She pulled the comforter and tucked herself in place. So I lay back down and rested my head on her soft pillows. I'm very much comfortable here. But it's weird now that she's beside me.
Was she asleep?
After another few minutes, I assumed she was already asleep.
That is until I heard her voice down my neck.
"August?" She whispers in my ear.
I feel her breath on my neck. Suddenly, I was nervous about where she was going with this.
"Are you a top or a bottom?" She says seductively.
"What?" I'm shocked, unable to process all this shit.
My best friend is interested in me, and whatever she's doing right now, I did like it. However, she comes from a very prestigious and religious family. I cannot let her do this to herself because I know what she would feel after this. Guilt.
"Top or bottom?" She says again, however, it was more of a demanding tone.
She was already on my side, her fingers lingering on my shoulders, her whole body against mine, her breathing in my ear. It was clear she wanted this. That she didn't care about what she'll be feeling after.
"Stop this, Frances. Whatever it is you're about to do, don't do it." I said directly to her, calling her by her second name to prove I am serious. As I am currently controlling myself to not be tempted by her.
I am not saying I don't want to fuck her at some point, of course, I do. She's hot in every way, in every angle. She's hot in everything she does. She is a Hendrixon for fuck's sake. If only Hendrixon's weren't fucking religious.
"I want it, August. I want you. Please." She whispers again.
'Oh, fuck. Fuck me. Fuck her.'
Those are the exact words I thought that day before giving
in on what she wanted; Me.
After that, we never talked about what happened that night. We stayed friends, as we always were. But it was different, no more sleepovers, no more girls' nights. Sometimes she acts as if I don't even exist.
And one day she didn't show up at school. I searched for her everywhere, just to find out that she was on a plane, on her way to a boarding school in England.
It broke me. Not because of her leaving me, it was because of her parents; they knew.
So they send her to a boarding school, far away from me. Until then I haven't seen her. Until the year my parents died, or the day that I left San Francisco.
There were times I recalled our memories together, the day she first brought me to her massive house, and to her huge bedroom, or the day she saved me from those bullies because they say I was not rich enough like them. I cherished all those moments with her. It was special, so much more special than I have had with anyone before.
That night was her filthiest secret, as it was mine.
*
Years had passed. She was still in my thoughts. I tried to find her on social media, but still nothing. After I moved to New York, I gave up. I started a new life without the thought of her or my parents.
I tried my best to forget all the tragic events that happened in the past.
Because I knew better.