It's All Fluid
Britta and Annie are dress shopping together at the local mall for Greendale's Fall Formal.
"Of course the dean has to add another ridiculous event. God forbid we go 2 weeks without a pointless gathering to give Greendale a false sense of being worthwhile."
"Oh, come on, Britta. It'll be fun. You know it will. Especially since you won't be throwing yourself at Jeff this time!"
"Thanks for that, Annie."
Britta's musing over a few racks of discount department store dresses. Does she want to go sexy or conservative this time? Glammed up or natural? Annie already has about six hangers tangled in her fists.
"Britta! I'm trying each of these on. I want you to tell me what you think about each one, okay?"
"Seriously, Annie? Just pick the one you like best."
"Britta. I respect your opinion. Can't you just be flattered and help me out?"
"Okay, okay."
Britta smiles to herself and continues browsing. She knows better than to go shopping with Annie. Britta knows what she wants, she grabs it and she goes. Annie fusses and makes a big deal over every potential purchase. Sure, it's annoying, but Britta has a soft spot for the self-conscious, girlie Annie. Specifically, she has a soft spot for Annie's conflicted, critical, decision-making face. The one where her eyebrows creep into each other, the corners of her pretty little mouth turn down and her already full lips purse out. It's adorable.
Annie walks out of the dressing room. She's in something typically Annie. Floral print, conservative cut, vintage style. "What do you think?"
"It's nice."
"Just nice?"
"Well. What do you think?"
"I like it. But I want something more grown up. I don't want to keep looking like this little girl. I want to be," and here her voice turns into whisper and she tilts her head for emphasis, "I want to be sexy. I'm going to try another one on."
Britta just smiles and giggles a bit. If only Annie knew that she was always sexy. Just in that naïve, oblivious way. She's not sure she wants to stroke little Annie's ego, though. A little confidence goes a long way, and after all, Annie's pretty young. We try not to sexualize her. Not to mention that Britta's favorite thing about Annie is her unintentionally charming girlishness. It reminds her of an innocent youth she never possessed.
"How about this one?"
"Whoa." Britta's mouth is hanging open as Annie stands before her in a strapless, lace number with a dangerously short hemline.
"Am I sexy?"
"Oh, yeah. Look, Annie. The thing about being sexy is that you have to balance it with some conservativism to keep it tasteful. Or else you end up with Starburns sneak-attack grinding up behind you. You know what? I saw something over in that corner that I think would be perfect for you. It's classy and alluring. I'll go get it."
Annie watches Britta make a beeline to the rack and pick up something floral and vintage that showed some skin. It was perfect. How was Britta able to peg her so well? How was Britta able to even be her friend? Annie was still very conscious of how much she had hurt Britta in the past. First with Vaughn and then with Jeff. And yet, here was Britta, finding her dresses and tolerating her indecisive obsession.
"Thanks so much, Britta! This is perfect. You're the greatest. I reeaallly mean it."
"Haha. Okay."
Britta decides that since Annie's going the sexy route, she'll let her have the spotlight. She really does want Annie to shine uninhibited. She's growing up and embracing her feminine power, learning how to wield her body. Britta's just grateful Annie's not doing it by sleeping with strangers at sketchy parties like she did when she was that age.
The girls are walking out of the mall, bags in hand. Bags filled with delicate fabrics, costume jewelry, makeup, and other essential trappings for the next day's gala.
"Britta, can I spend the night at your apartment?"
"What? Why?"
"We can get ready tomorrow and go the dance together! It'll be soooo much fun! Promise!"
Britta wants to say no. But she says yes for two reasons. One is that just because she's learned how to go to the bathroom with other women, it doesn't mean she can't try other mainstream feminine things. The other (and the one she's less likely to admit to) is because Annie's wide eyes framed by her doll-like lashes look so excited, and they're just so captivating when they're that way.
Annie squeals with delight and bounces all the way to Britta's used hybrid.
Britta's cooking dinner. Pasta, salad, vegetarian soup. Britta's a good cook, actually. Annie is a bit surprised by it. She never would have pegged Britta as a culinary enthusiast. Britta says she only does it because it's therapeutic. Not because of any feminine inclinations to homemaking. Let's just make that clear. She's playing The Smiths in her old, battered CD player. Annie's just sitting at Britta's counter, watching her cook.
If she's being honest with herself, Annie often gets jealous of Britta. She gets all this attention for being hot and hip and confident. As much as Annie pretends to disapprove of Britta's weathered personality and edgy look, she secretly wishes she could be like her. Britta is gorgeous, really. She's standing there barefoot, hair tangled, in sweatpants and an oversized Nirvana T-shirt, and she's still really, really pretty.
"Britta?" Annie's voice is timid and she draws the name out as if she can't decide whether or not she wants to finish saying it.
"Yeah?"
"Um. You know how Pierce always makes these comments about you being," she goes down to a whisper, but this time without the head tilt, "a lesbian?"
"Oh, god, yeah. That man is such a pig."
"Well. Um. You've never actually clarified that you're straight. I mean, obviously you're into guys what with Jeff and Vaughn and all, but could you be, maybe…"
"Bisexual? Why do you ask?"
"Well. It's just… You're very edgy and sexually cavalier, so it just seemed like maybe you could be?"
"I don't believe in labeling anyone's sexuality. It's all fluid. If your question is whether or not I've hooked up with girls before, then yeah. I had some wild days in my past. If your question is whether I'd do it again, well… You know what? I probably would. I mean, if the right girl came along. I don't mean to say that I'd sleep with literally anyone who's willing."
"What kind of girl would be the right girl?"
"Uh. I guess I won't know until I meet her, huh?"
"I guess…"
Annie was brought up in a very conservative household. Girls brought up with parents like Annie's turn out one of three ways. First, they can be repressed to the point of psychosomatic manifestations. Second, they can be rebellious, rejecting every parameter enforced upon them in their adolescences. Third, they can be a disturbing combination of sexually repressed and sexually curious. Annie came out the third way. She won't say the P word, but she finds herself wondering what it would be like to do what Britta's done. She even believes Britta when she says sexuality is a fluid thing.
"Um. Britta?"
Britta exhales loudly. "Yes, Annie?"
"How do two girls, you know, do it?"
"Uh. With fingers and tongues, mostly."
"Well, I figured that, but how?"
"Oh, Annie. You don't need to know that."
Britta's a bit uncomfortable with this exchange. If she's being honest with herself, then she can't deny that she feels an attraction to Annie. It's one she mostly tries to suppress. She doesn't really feel a sexualized attraction. More of an aesthetic one. And of course her adorable personality doesn't help. All the girls Britta's hooked up with have been just like her: edgy, alternative, bold. Annie's different. And still Britta just can't help but wonder what it would be like to run her hands up and down Annie's girlish and hesitant figure. But it would be weird. Right?
Annie thinks that if she were to try being intimate with a girl, she would like it to be someone as gorgeous and experienced and comfortable as Britta. Not that she would ever do that. As curious as she is, she just couldn't do it. What would her mother say? But then she thinks about how much she would like to tangle her fingers in those soft, golden curls and get closer to those clear, expressive eyes and touch that skin as soft and smooth as her own. Maybe she should just try. And if she doesn't like it, she can always stop, right? And no one else needs to know. No, no, no. She needs to stop thinking like this.
Britta turns to face Annie. She's lost in some sort of fantasy. She has that vacant look in her eyes and a slight smile. And now she's biting her lip. Britta knows that look. She's seen it in tattooed, leather-wearing, punk-listening rebel girls. She's never seen it in a Jewish, cardigan-clad, type A girl. Britta knows she can't make the first move here. As the older, experienced, less straight-laced one, it would be easy for her to unintentionally frighten or take advantage of Annie. She has to give Annie the green light. But she can't take a step. Girl-on-girl encounters are tricky. That's something that Britta understands much better than Annie does.
Annie snaps out of her own little world and notices the strange look Britta's giving her. She looks like she wants to say something. She looks like she's struggling to maintain her self-control. They make eye contact. Britta bites her lip and looks downward. Even Annie knows this is the universal girl signal to go ahead and approach. She has a clear open door. So should she be repressed, play-it-safe Annie? Or should she be sexy, live-in-the-moment Annie?
She takes too long to decide and the tension of the moment wears thin and snaps. Britta looks at the confused girl frozen in her kitchen and gives her a warm, friendly smile in an attempt to reel things back into the normal, sexual-tension-free zone. She turns back to the stove. "I'm almost done heating up this soup. I hope you like vegetarian…"
Annie suddenly finds the courage to try something she never ever thought she was capable of. She strides up to Britta and takes her face in her hands. Before Britta has the chance to react, she's tasting strawberry lip gloss and smelling jasmine perfume and feeling those lashes flutter next to hers. Annie's an alarmingly good kisser. Britta tries not to think about how similar Annie's technique is to Vaughn's. She breaks it off and gently pushes Annie back by the shoulders. Without letting go, she asks her if she's sure she wants to do this. She assures her that she doesn't need to prove anything to her or anyone else. Annie is sure. In fact, the thrill is better than anything she ever got off pills she insists.
The next time Annie's brain has enough space to formulate a coherent thought, her blouse is half unbuttoned, she's lying on Britta's couch and those dancing eyes and defined lips are hovering above her face. Annie grins when she realizes that she does enjoy this. The sensitivity and softness that is another woman is much more pleasant than she had dared to hope. And Britta certainly knows what she's doing. Britta begins to kiss her way down Annie's neckline and her lips follow the course of Annie's buttons as they are undone one by one with remarkable dexterity. When she reaches the waistline of Annie's skirt, Britta looks up as if to ask permission to go on. Annie's eyes smile as she bites her lip. Britta gets back to the business of ridding Annie of her many pesky layers of clothing.
"Tell me you didn't wonder at least once or twice what Shirley would say."
"It was haunting me almost the whole time! We shouldn't tell her, should we?"
"Of course not! I know you're really close with her, but remember what happened when I told her I slept with Jeff? It's probably best we not say anything to her… Or to anyone."
"Oh god. I can just imagine how gross Pierce would be about it. And Troy would never stop asking questions."
"Exactly. We should probably actually eat this food that's been sitting here for 2 hours and then go to sleep. We'll talk more while we get ready for the Fall Formal tomorrow."
They eat Britta's concoctions, half dressed. Britta's wearing that T-shirt and lacy underwear. Annie's in a pair of gym shorts borrowed from Britta and her bra. When they go to bed, Britta offers to give Annie some extra pillows for the couch.
"Britta. Can't I share your bed?"
"Why? So we can snuggle?" Britta laughs. And then she realizes that's exactly what Annie wants. "Annie, after a casual hookup, you don't really…" She trails off. Jeff was right when he said disappointing Annie is like choking the Little Mermaid with a bicycle chain. "Oh, fine."
The girls fall asleep, squished together on Britta's small bed. Annie smiles to herself. She can feel Britta's wiry frame around her and it's more comfortable than having the couch to herself she thinks. She doesn't know quite what's going on here, but she knows that she's glad she took that first step.
Britta knows that tomorrow morning most likely holds some awkward and drawn-out conversations. They have to decide if this is a one-time thing, if it's a purely physical thing, etc. It may take some effort to get both of them on the same page. But until then, she'll be damned if she doesn't enjoy falling asleep with an adorable, curled up Annie breathing in rhythm with her.