Simone knew it was wrong.
She'd felt that pull the first day they met- a simple handshake, butterflies in her stomach, a defiant gaze meeting her own as the door to Mother Immaculata's office slid shut- and she should have stopped it right there. But much like a moth to a flame, she found that she just couldn't help herself.
It was curiosity at first. One mystery, one question- who was Annabelle Tillman? It plagued her and she didn't understand why.
If any of the other girls had pushed her, challenged her, touched her like she had, Simone wouldn't have had a problem telling them that they were out of line. So why was this girl any different?
Answers, she found, were few and far between. Only providing her with more questions in the long run. Like how Annabelle had managed to get under her skin so quickly? And why did a simple, yet tense, moment between them- standing in her vacant classroom, soft fingers brushing against her skin, delicately holding the cross around her neck- send her directly to that hidden trunk in her closet, going through pieces of her past that she could never get back?
The next day she'd found out why.
Sitting in the library with dozens of other students, giving away a book that Amanda had once gifted to her. Compelled to connect with her somehow, in any way. Not knowing at the time how close that the inscription inside would hit home for the girl.
"Why are you making this so hard?"
"The first person I fell in love with gave them to me."
"Are you still in love with him?"
"She... moved to Europe last year with her family."
Suddenly it all made sense.
The looks. The way her stomach fluttered every time they talked. Why she'd let her go through the photos she'd taken, all of them, and answered her questions truthfully.
Annabelle saw her.
Really saw her.
Through all the bullshit and lies. Like the facade that she'd spent so long creating, the teacher, the perfect heterosexual girlfriend, had disappeared and she could finally be herself.
It was a relief.
Addicting.
Knowing that someone out there understood her and she wasn't alone.
So when Annabelle knocked on her door one night, on the same day that she'd received flowers from her during class, she hadn't been able to turn her away. Spouting off some lame excuse and watching helplessly as she ignored it and crossed the threshold anyways, shutting the door behind her. They were playing with fire, she knew that. Especially when she let the girl slide closer, knees not so innocently nudging her thigh.
"You play with your necklace a lot."
"Nervous habit."
"Do I make you nervous?"
Annabelle had leaned in slowly, eyes hooded, gaze lingering on her mouth, intent on kissing her... and Simone had almost let her.
She'd shuddered when those fingertips burned trails across her chest and a gentle puff of breath floated past her chin. Inviting lips almost brushing hers before she found the will to turn away.
"Don't."
She hadn't meant it. Far from it actually.
If things were different? If Annabelle wasn't eighteen years her junior and if having these confusing feelings for her weren't so taboo? If it wasn't so forbidden? Don't would have meant please and harder and faster.
Unsurprisingly, she hadn't been able to sleep that night. Or the night after that and so on. Laying awake in her tiny bed, wracked with guilt.
It wouldn't have been so bad if the attraction was one sided. She could have blamed it on a students infatuation and written it off. But it wasn't just a juvenile crush, it was mutual and dangerous. Every time she thought that she'd found an inner strength, enough guts to open her mouth and voice how wrong the situation was becoming, it betrayed her, breaking before she she got the chance to say, 'We have to stop.' She just couldn't do it.
She wanted Annabelle. Mentally and physically.
So what did she do?
She prayed.
Simone crept into the chapel in the middle of the night, surrounded by hundreds of flickering candles. A last resort. Asking for forgiveness and guidance. For the strength to deny this girl, and herself, for only a few more months. Just long enough for the term to end and take temptation with it.
Her eyes closed, trying to focus on her relationship with God, on anything other than her. But slowly, those familiar, sinful thoughts began to creep in. Images flashing before her no matter how hard she tried to stop it. She pictured Annabelle following her inside. Sliding into the pew next to her. Silent. Waiting. A small palm lifting the hem of her skirt, gliding up her inner thigh, fingers dancing against the base of her skull.
In her fantasy, she gave in. Simone bit her lip, looked her in the eye and leaned forward, initiating a kiss. But even dream-her couldn't follow through, snapping out of it right before their mouths touched.
She felt dirty. Sitting in the house of God, imagining herself sexually with a seventeen year old girl. She should have been struck down right there. She deserved it, and a part of her even welcomed it. Longing to feel anything other than constant confliction.
That's when she realized that she was screwed. Royally, destined for trouble, head over heels infatuated, screwed.
She also realized that she wouldn't be able to say no forever.
She had to leave. To think, to come up with a plan, to stop this. Whatever this would turn out to be.
But as spring break approached, her little slice of salvation within sight, everything came crashing down around her.
"I just don't think it's a good idea."
"She lives in your dorm, therefore she's your responsibility."
"But what about me? I need to get away for a few days."
"You know how delicate the situation is."
She did know how delicate the situation was and it had nothing to do with Senator Tillman and the need to keep her trouble making daughter out of the headlines during campaign season.
For nearly two days she'd managed to stay away from her. Keeping to herself, making sure that the door to her room was locked at all times.
Was it a little overboard? Maybe. But was it necessary? With Annabelle's penchant for slipping into her room before she'd even had a chance to protest? Most definitely.
By Tuesday though, she was starting to feel restless. If she was going to stay holed up like that for the rest of the week she'd need a few more provisions. Like dried goods, water, ice-cream and booze. Lots of booze. Maybe even a few DVD's if she had the time to swing by the rental store in town.
So once she'd heard Annabelle trudge down the stairs in those loud boots of hers later that morning, she waited a half hour to make sure the coast was clear before slipping outside.
That had been her first mistake.
Simone was halfway to her car before she saw her. Laying on a light blue blanket in the grass, staring up into a canopy of leaves. She couldn't resist walking over to her. It was like her feet had a mind of their own. Her heart beating wildly the closer she got, that little part of her that had already admitted defeat cheering wildly somewhere deep down in her subconscious.
"Oh, come on. Don't take them."
"Where do you keep getting these?"
"Sister Claire."
The next thing she knew, they were sitting side by side, her sandals had been toed off, there was a cigarette in her hand and the taste of smoke lingered heavily in her mouth.
That had been her second mistake.
"You wanna get out of here?"
"I can't take my students off campus."
"Who's gonna know?"
"Sister Claire."
It hadn't taken much more convincing, she's almost embarrassed to say. A flirty grin and a playful nudge of knees, and before she blinked they were already halfway out of town.
So. Screwed.
But what Mother Immaculata didn't know, wouldn't hurt her. Right?
Simone's beach house was about an hour away from school, much too far to travel on a regular basis, which meant the cupboards would be bare. So they stopped at a small gas station along the way, loading up on junk food and drinks that way they wouldn't starve if they stayed long enough for dinner.
Annabelle had teased her about her choices, brushing against her in one of the aisles as she tried to steal the Snowballs from her grasp and put them back on the shelf, the curve of a supple breast pressing against her bare arm. She'd arched into the contact, startled to hear a soft whimper beside her, not realizing what she'd done until their eyes met and a healthy blush covered her cheeks.
That was mistake number three.
She didn't pull away.
Not when an older gentleman skirted around them mumbling something about coffee creamer and cat food, or when Annabelle grazed her palm with the lightest touch. Thankful that the girl took a chance, slipping smaller fingers between her own.
It felt so right.
There they were, in the middle of nowhere, where no one knew who they were or what the bounds of their relationship were supposed to be, and she gave in. Just a little. Squeezing Annabelle's hand with as much affection as she dared before dragging her up to the cash register. Letting herself enjoy the brief contact, knowing that it had to end there, that it couldn't go any further. At least that's what she kept telling herself. Even as she snapped photos of the girl later that day on the beach. Their fingertips naturally sliding together once again as they sat on the warm sand, enjoying the breeze and the freedom of being in each other's company.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"The girl in the pictures... Were you in love with her?"
"Yes."
"You still wear her cross."
"How do you..."
"She's wearing it in all of the pictures."
She panicked, searching for the solitude of waves lapping at her feet. On the verge of tears.
She felt exposed. Too much, too soon.
"...Wait, I want to talk to you."
"This is bullshit... No, look. I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't have to talk about it."
"No, let me go."
"You don't have to talk about it. I'm not letting you go."
"Annabelle."
"I'm not letting you go. I'm not letting you go."
And just like that, she was completely bare to the world.
No one knew about her past. No one.
Yet this woman, girl, had her completely figured out. Knew her deepest, darkest secrets and didn't judge her for it. She accepted her. Held her in her arms as she broke down and finally mourned her dead lover, her best friend, who couldn't handle the guilt that their love brought upon them.
That's how Simone found herself, years later, being drawn into a bedroom that she and Amanda had once shared, exhausted, wrapped tightly in Annabelle Tillman's embrace as she cried herself to sleep.
She'd woken up early the next morning, just past dawn, more embarrassed than she'd like to admit. But she didn't care, not anymore. They'd crossed the line- she'd been drawn in too far, let her see too much- and now there was no going back.
She didn't move. Laying there, staring out the window, not willing to give up the tranquil feeling that having soft limbs wrapped around her body induced quite yet. Only when Annabelle began to stir did she get up, gasping and pulling away when the side of her neck had been nuzzled sleepily, lips burning a fleeting kiss against her skin.
She had to put some distance between them. Fast. She'd promised herself- it had to stop. No more hand holding, no listening to her breath as they slept next to one another and definitely no more longing stares across full rooms.
It couldn't continue at Saint Theresa's. There was too much to lose, too many rules and hearts to break. Too much of a chance that they'd get caught.
It was too risky.
Not knowing what else to do, and instead of just talking to her, Simone shut down. Recklessly erecting those protective walls that Annabelle had managed to so efficiently knock down. It was cruel, she knew that, after all they'd been through. But she had to do something.
So there she sat. In her car, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white, praying that Annabelle would keep her hands to herself, go back inside the dorm and pretend that none of this ever happened. But of course she didn't. A lone finger traced the top of her hand, nearly breaking her heart when she'd been forced to drop it away, taking refuge in her own lap.
A tear had slipped from the corner of Simone's eye. Body tensing as the door slammed shut and she watched Annabelle sullenly slip down the little path to the courtyard, knowing that she was on her way to lay in her favorite tree. The place she went when she wanted to be left alone to her thoughts.
She'd fought so hard not to run after her. To apologize, to take her in her arms and press her lips against the salty tracks falling down her cheeks, to show her that she hurt too.
But she couldn't.
Instead, Simone had walked shamefully back up to her room, sans the supplies that she'd originally set out for the day before, and sat crying in her bathtub until the water was freezing and her skin had pruned.
Now it was almost eleven thirty, five days later, and she'd been lying there in bed for hours, arm cushioned behind her head, motionless. A culmination of the last few months resting heavily on her shoulders.
She'd finally managed to let Amanda go. Or at least she'd taken the first step. Amanda is her past, she'd accepted that. And as much as she hated to admit it, it looks like Annabelle is going to be her future.
Simone sighed heavily, watching the shadows of tree branches dance across her ceiling. Somewhere down the hall a door clicked shut. The girls shared a bathroom on the opposite side of the floor so it was nothing unusual to hear them come and go during the night. But shuffled footsteps slowly making their way in her direction certainly was.
Sitting up, her pulse quickened, spotting movement under the bottom of the door.
Annabelle.
It had to be her.
This was it. The defining moment where Simone either laid there and ignored her, giving her another excuse to add to the growing pile, or where she did something so stupid, yet completely inevitable, that it could possibly fuck up her future and livelihood.
Her muscles tensed. What was it going to be?
She heard a sigh from the other side of the door, soft and quiet, quickly followed by the telltale sign of more movement.
Shit.
Was she leaving?
Simone's eyes squeezed tightly shut, sheets bunching up beneath her fists.
"Fuck," she whispered a little too loudly, tumbling out of bed, unlocking and opening the door with a shaky hand, "Wait."
That was her final mistake.
Her breath caught. The first thing she saw was Annabelle frozen halfway between their rooms, bathed in moonlight, looking over her shoulder with that intense gaze that made her insides churn and melt.
In the end, all she had to do was open the door a few more inches, something that she hadn't even realized she'd done until Annabelle's body brushed against hers as she slipped through the small space.
Their eyes met.
Tension radiated between them. A battle of wills.
"I can't do this," she pleaded, knowing that it would fall on deaf ears.
They were so close.
Simone's gaze dropped down to Annabelle's lips, pink and full. She took a step forward, pressing her against the door as she pushed it shut. Trapping her, breasts heaving against her own, feeling smaller hands trail down her waist. Noses brushing as fingers dug into her hips.
"We aren't doing anything wrong."
Annabelle tipped forward, mouth almost touching hers before she managed to dodge it. A game of push and pull.
"I can't do this."
"Yes," she urged, those sneaky hands sliding under the back of her tank top, burning against her bare skin, "you can."
Simone shivered, swooning at the touch. Her mind swirling with guilt and temptation, centered around the girl arching in her arms.
'God, forgive me,' she thought, before reaching up and flicking the lock shut with a loud click. She was going to sin.
Taking a deep breath, her hands framed Annabelle's face and with only a moments hesitation, she brought their lips crashing together.
It wasn't sweet or gentle like she'd imagined. It was rough and passionate. Their mouths opening, gliding together, tongues touching for the first time, tangling, dancing. Unleashing all the angst and tension that had built up between them in a flurry of hands and lips and moans.
Palms had already fluttered around her ribcage, cupping breasts firmly under flimsy material. Kneading, teasing. Distracting her just enough for the tables to turn, suddenly finding wood behind her back and a toned thigh between her own, grinding into her.
Simone gasped. Her neck bowing as teeth nipped the tender skin behind her ear, a feeling so good that it almost made her knees buckle.
This was really happening, wasn't it? She almost couldn't believe it, it seemed so surreal.
Goosebumps rose on her skin, chilled air washed over her as she lifted her arms in the air and let Annabelle slide her shirt over her head. Mouths found each other again before it even had a chance to hit the floor, and with a few flicks of her wrist, two sets of pajama bottoms quickly followed and her hands began roaming over forbidden flesh. She was almost frantic, tugging Annabelle closer as she shuffled toward the bed, never wanting to let go now that she'd known her touch.
Then the world blurred around her.
Simone squeaked in surprise, clinging tightly to Annabelle as she bounced against the top of the mattress. All she could feel was curves sliding over her own and weight pinning her entire body down. It was delicious and she almost purred at the sensation. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, molding herself up into the girl above her.
Annabelle chuckled, tugging playfully on her bottom lip before sliding down Simone's body. Pressing wet kisses along the column of her neck, nipping softly at her collarbone before nuzzling her way down the middle of her chest.
She tangled her fingers into long brown hair as a tongue ghosted over her nipple, urging her closer. Digging into the back of the girl's skull, silently begging her to stop teasing and willing her to continue at the same time. She whimpered loudly in relief when a warm mouth finally surrounded her, sucking just hard enough that she hissed and moaned appreciatively.
She'd had enough, Simone needed to feel more skin. Now.
Pulling at the bottom of her white shirt, Annabelle got the message and hovered over her, muscles contracting underneath taught skin as they both fought to free her of the offending material. And when it finally fell to the floor, when they were both surrounded by a curtain of hair and Simone felt a gentle sway and then press of bare breasts against hers, she couldn't breath. Her heart stopped and her body buzzed, vibrating with each touch.
She'd never felt anything quite so... electric.
It was the way that Annabelle groaned as she reclaimed her lips and how her whole body sung when a small hand slid teasingly down her stomach and between her legs. She arched into her touch, fingers slipping beneath her panties, thrusting into her with enough force to make her throw her head back and gasp in surprise.
It was amazing.
She could already feel a pleasant burn building deep within her. Fingertips gripping toned hips, clenching her smooth skin tightly as they rocked together in the silence of night.
The building creaked around them and Annabelle's breath puffed heavily past her ear. She wanted so badly to cry out, to let a long needed moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure slip past her lips. But she knew that she couldn't. There were too many curious ears in this house, too many reasons why they should be doing this. So she bit her lip and held her breath, wishing desperately that they were anywhere but here, surrounded by nothing but the sound of crickets and waves crashing against the shore.
But there they were, with gaudy crosses on the walls and plaid skirts hanging in closets twenty feet away, making love in the same twin bed that she'd been sleeping in since she was thirteen. It wasn't ideal, but as she bucked her hips and Annabelle flicked her thumb against her clit, she couldn't imagine it any other way.
Simone grinned dreamily and slid her hands up the girl's back. Nails gliding dangerously along skin, her control wavering as each second passed. Release only a breath away.
That's when she felt it. The first tremors or her muscles, a tightening low in her belly, coiling and winding to heights that she'd never imagined before.
"Annabelle," she gasped, feeling a less than quiet noise threatening to escape her, "kiss me!"
Dark blue eyes snapped to hers, pale light streaming in through the windows, making Annabelle's hair glow in a halo around her head. She was beautiful.
Simone felt her throat clench, a tear falling from the corner of her eye just as soft lips pressed into hers and she flew over the edge...
The next thing she knew, Annabelle was laying at her side raining gentle kisses over her face, salty impressions left in their wake. Her body shook heavily, completely exhausted, regaining her breath. Emotions washing through her, drowning her, saving her. She'd never felt so loved. Cherished, even. It made her heart swell and a sleepy grin curve her lips.
Annabelle mirrored her smile, palm cupping her cheek before leaning in and kissing her sweetly. Slowly and thoroughly, like they'd been doing it all of their lives.
Simone of course wanted to reciprocate, could feel need building up in her once again. She was dying to touch her, taste her, to show Annabelle the last little piece of herself that she'd kept so carefully hidden. But as hard as she tried, her arms felt too heavy and her eyes began to droop. If she wasn't so ridiculously happy, she would've felt embarrassed by that. After all of that waiting to be together and she's only good for one shot out of the gate?
But she should've known better, Annabelle took it in stride. Chuckling quietly as she kissed her once more and settled more deeply into the pillows, pulling her into her arms until she rested her head on the girls chest and snuggled comfortably into her side. There would be other days and other chances.
"Will you still be here in the morning?" she whispered, her eyes slipping shut.
There was an uncertain pause.
"Do you want me to be?"
Simone's final memory before floating off into a peaceful slumber was replying with a simple, honest, "Yes."
End.