Trina is absolutely one hundred percent absorbed with herself, but I think she's starting to notice.
Cat's fingers twist in the spaces between mine. Our hands are hidden behind my back and she stays as close as she can to me as we ascend my stairs. I can feel her breath on the back of my neck, coming out of her in giggling spurts. I glance over my shoulder, finding her brown eyes peeking up at me with that familiar, teasing look embedded in them. She bites a smile at me. My heart sputters and I swear one of these days, it's simply going to give out. It's been a few weeks and I'm still not used to her looking at me like I'm some kind of mystical creature she didn't know existed.
Beyond her, glaring up at us from the foot of the stares is my sister, hands clamped tightly on her hips. I meet her eyes only briefly, yanking them away and quickening my pace up the stairs, all but pulling Cat with me. She laughs loudly, becoming much more brave now that we're out of Trina's sight. The hand not locked in mine runs over the back of my thigh. It makes me jump, turning to give her a warning with my eyes, but she's not intimidated. Cheeks as red as her hair, she simply laughs again and does it again, her chest to my back.
I swallow. "Cat, we're not even in my room yet." I've stopped walking because it's kind of a fruitless effort with her groping me like this. Besides, it feels - well, okay, it feels amazing, because her hands seriously know how to touch me in the most perfect ways.
Her hand slips between my legs. Hard fingertips grind against the denim, something heavy dropping in my gut. A soft sound beats out of me at her persistent stroking, leaning back so my head can fall against her shoulder. Her teeth connect almost immediately with my ear. Another laugh rustles my hair.
"Tori," she giggles, a knuckle slowly working against me. I bite my lip, stifling the string of embarrassing noises threatening to come out of my throat. I thought Cat was a physical being when we were just friends, but now it's been multiplied tenfold; whenever we're alone, she's all over me. It's not always like this - this, like ... sexual stuff. We haven't had sex. Honest. One would probably be convinced otherwise with the way she's making me all hot and bothered right now, but the most clothing we've lost is our shirts. It should probably be mentioned, though, that's it's usually - maybe always - me that stops it from going any further. Cat never says anything, thankfully. She seems just as happy to be curled up next to me with her top off on my bed with the TV on.
But when she throws herself on me like this, with her hand between my legs and my knees turning to pudding and her teeth tickling my ear, it's getting really, really hard to find the strength in me to say no. It's not that I don't want to because, obviously, I do, but it's just ... if I do, then that makes all of this more real. It makes it almost official in a way, and I can't pretend that it's just a phase that's going to fizzle out as quickly as it sprung up. If we ... if I have sex with her, then that kind of seals the deal, doesn't it?
It's stupid. Trust me, I'm very aware of that. It's stupid to be thinking so shallowly when Cat's hand is between my legs and soft moans are slipping past my lips and I'm grinding into her and hot waves are pulsing through me and everything feel wonderful but - my mind is a steel trap and it's sank its teeth into me and it just gnaws its way deeper and deeper every time my sister looks at me or I see Beck and Jade holding hands in the hallway and Cat has to creep around corners and hide in the shadows and it's not fair and it's so stupid -
"O-Oh." Cat's hand is moving faster, harder, and if we stay out in this hallway any longer like this, I might lose my common sense and just tackle her here out in the open. Cat has that dangerous effect on me; when we're together, all of these walls just crumble to dust. When I'm with her, I feel like I really could just be all out with her and hold her hand and kiss her in the hallways at school. She is my strength.
But when she's gone -
I shake my head to myself and turn around, my hands curling around the back of her head. Fingers thread into her ruby head hair and crush her mouth to mine with a soft mmph vibrating our lips. I don't want to think about when she's not here. I don't want to think about how weak I am when I'm alone, how I feel like curling up in my closet and locking the door with the key down my throat. I don't want to think about the guilt that coats me like a scaly second skin and how I panic and close my blinds and avoid everyone's eyes because they have to know they must see it on me they must smell her on my clothes see her on my lips -
Walking backwards into my door, I reach back with one hand and twist the doorknob. She laughs as we tumble inside, spinning so my back pushes the door closed again. I wonder if Cat is at all like me when we're apart. I don't see it in her. I only see confidence and smiles and laughter and this bright light shining from beneath her bones somewhere, pulsing with her heartbeat. My fingers find the lock and twist it, Cat smiling against my mouth as she pulls back, brown eyes melting into mine.
"You taste good," she whispers, her lip chewing at the corner of her pineapple flavored lip.
The words drip fire down my spine. "Cat, you're -" I can't think up a word big enough, strong enough, lovely enough. I bring her forward and say to her lips, "impossible," because it's the only thing I can think of that's even close. She is impossible. Completely improbable. Absolutely and totally absurd. And I'm kissing her like she's the only thing that makes sense.
I pull her to my bed. Her hand lingers on my hip as she fall beside me, but she doesn't kiss me again. There's an unspoken rule between us that I make the decisions, that how far we go is entirely up to me. The fact that Cat is an actress bothers me sometimes because I can't tell if things like that upset her or not. You'd think she'd be easy to read, the way she gets emotional all the time and lets everyone know what she's thinking, but now that I know her on a more ... intimate level, I can tell when she's biting back something she wants to say in front of our friends. When she clasps her hands together or licks her lips or plays with her hair instead of talking - it all seemed like innocent, little ol' Cat before, but now all of those gestures are significant.
But there's still a level of her I can't quite get under, parts of her I can't read. There are still questions I haven't answered, mysteries left to solve. So when she puts her hand on my hip and smiles at me, coming off as completely content and sure of herself, of me, of us and whatever this is ... I can't stop myself from asking.
"Are you happy?" My eyes shift between hers. I watch the playfulness that had gathered in her eyes slowly melt away. Her smile shifts into a flat line. The hand on my hip moves to her own, the redhead falling on her back. I don't see Cat serious very often - I much rather prefer her when her mood is kitten-like, soft and purring and ready to pounce. But when she's like this she's more like a determined tiger, using her stripes to camouflage with the tall grass.
"Yes." She's certain when she says it, turning to look at me with a hint of her earlier smile returning. "You make me really happy when we're together like this, Tori."
I touch the inside of elbow. "And when we're not?"
Once more, the smile flits away. Coffee-colored eyes watch my finger circling her skin. "It's lonely," she says, words soft. "I mean, I don't want to jinx anything or make you feel bad because I know you're - I know how this feels." She meets my eyes. "I know you're scared. I was there, too."
I nod slowly. Cat's stronger than me in that regard. She had to deal with these confusing feelings all by herself. She had already told me about the nights she had spent crying in the cocoon of her bedspread, how she wasted every birthday wish on becoming 'normal', how every falling star she saw scar the night sky turned into a desperate prayer to wake up and be like everyone else. She already had to deal with being emotional and unable to control her words, she didn't want to feel the way she did about girls on top of it. But she does and she's dealt with it a lot longer than I have.
The thing is, the idea never occurred to me until I kissed Cat on Prome night. I mean, I always knew that some girls liked girls and that never bothered me, but the notion that I could be one of them had not once crossed my mind. I like boys. I think boys are cute. I've been all dreamy, butterflies and love letters and late night texts with plenty of them. And that alone scares me, that maybe Cat just happened at a time when my hormones were out of wack and one day I'm going to wake up and not be attracted to her like I am now. I don't know if sexuality works like that - I've honestly given it barely any thought at all until recently, and the last thing I want is to think I'm something I'm not.
Or hurt Cat.
"I like you, Cat." I tell her for both her benefit and mine. It's true. I do like Cat. I like Cat the same way I've liked boys in the past - she makes my heart patter nervously against my ribs, my cheeks flare, my knees shake. I'm past denying that it was 'just a kiss' that night after Prome. I know it's more than that, I'm just still trying to figure out what it is, exactly.
I look at her, but her eyes are on the ceiling, one arm draped above her head. "I just ... you know, I just don't know to what extent." The words sound wrong when I say them, but I can't think of any other way of phrasing it. It's going to sound bad no matter what.
Cat's eyes flick away, hovering over my window; it's warm and yellow outside and I can hear the neighbor kids laughing from their yard next door. The actress veil that she wears so well falls away if just for a moment, and I see genuine hurt in her eyes. It stabs me hard in the chest, my hand quickly unwinding to grip hers.
"Yet," I finish, looking down at our hands, her pale flesh contrasting with my dark tan. Light and dark. Yin and yang. I feel strong here, with my hand in hers, and her soft smile peeking at me through the rays of sunlight from my bedroom window. I feel like I could take facing my own questions, the hard ones, the ones that really scare me, because I know Cat would be right there to help me.
She stays for a few hours. It's a school night, so after dinner she drives home after a quick kiss on my porch. She's happy again, beaming and giggly as she waves at me from my driveway. I watch her car disappear around a corner and the moment she's out of sight, it hits me hard and low in my gut.
I'm only strong when she's around. I can only stand when she's holding me up.
Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I turn to head back into the house. Trina's in the living room, slung over the couch with the TV practically screaming at her, but her eyes are on me. Wide, dark eyes watch me as I move toward the stairs and just before I begin to ascend, I spin around, glaring right back at her.
"What?" My tone is sharp, angry, but Trina's expression doesn't change. She just raises her chin at me and turns back to the TV, lifting the remote from the couch beside her.
"You better think of the career you want, Tori," she says, and my body floods with ice.
"What are you talking about?" I don't sound as strong as I wish I did. I'm shaking and scared. We hid it well, didn't we? Cat and I were strictly behind closed doors. Locked doors.
"Nothing." She glances at me again. "Right?"
I can't breathe. I burst up the stairs and throw myself into my room, staring hard at my door like I expect Trina to come barging in here with pictures and video evidence. From her perspective, I guess I get it - this is the way Trina acts sisterly and loving. She acted the same way when I was ten and wanted to get a pixie cut. She scared me by saying that I wouldn't be treated the same and people would look at me differently and I would change and - Christ.
I sit on the edge of my bed. I can still smell Cat in my room, a faint scent that is becoming more and more prominent the more she stays here. My chest feels tight and heavy and I don't want to cry but it slams out of me in waves before I can stop it.
I turn on the radio to drown out the sounds of my panicked sobs, but every station is playing love songs.
A/N: When I started writing this, I didn't really have it all planned out. That's probably a bad idea, but sometimes, when you just go with the flow, things turn out all right. I certainly hope you think so.
College starts on Monday, so after that, updates might be a tad slower. Review for inspiration~
