This is fanfic for a story found on a certain Focus on Family website. The story is called "Looking Fine," and it can be found by googling "stacie candice brio" without the quotes.
This story is VERY clichéd and stupid. It's horrifically melodramatic and MUCH angstier than what I usually write. I wrote it on a dare when I should have been doing NaNoWriMo. I wasn't even going to post it on here, but people kept asking me for the link.
Disclaimer: All characters etc. belong to Sue Cameron and Brio magazine. I'm just using them for my own nefarious femmeslashy purposes.
Tuesday AfternoonsI hate to confess it, but I had ulterior motives when I talked Stacie into dressing modestly.
Stacie is hot. She's always been the hot one. She was hot even before she got breasts, and now she's even hotter. She was obscenely hot in that clingy yellow shirt and those very tight jeans, which is why I talked her into the new wardrobe.
The new wardrobe doesn't work.
I'm at her house, and we're sitting at the kitchen table eating cookies. Stacie's mom is a fantastic cook. The cookies are chocolate chip and delicious.
Stacy's shirt is loose and long sleeved, and she's wearing a long flowing skirt. She's got her hair tied back and no make up and some of her grandmother's old jewelery and she's hot. She's much hotter than she ever was because she's not doing it on purpose.
"What did you think of Tanya's teaching on homosexuality?" she asked me. She takes a bite of a cookie and I find myself watching her lipstick free lips.
"Fine," I said. "I thought they were fine."
"Candice," she says, "You seem distracted. Are you okay? During youth group you were kind of staring into space. I worry about you. You don't seem like yourself."
Stacie is a wonderful person. She worries about me. She worries about everyone.
"I'm fine," I say. "Everything's fine. I'm just a little bit tired."
Stacie gets up and walks a round the table. She pulls out the chair next to me and sits in it. She puts her arm around my shoulder. "Candice," she says. "You can tell me. Really." She smiles warmly and I really, really want to tell her.
And so I do.
Stacie and I are in Stacie's kitchen with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. It's a Tuesday afternoon and I am kissing Stacie.
And she is kissing back.
"Candice," she says, when we finally stop. "I didn't think you felt that way about me— I've had a crush on you for so long . . ."
"I've been in love with you since I met you," I tell her.
"I kept trying to make you like me. I changed my wardrobe for you," she said. "I wanted your approval, if nothing else."
"You can change back if you like," I said. "The modesty thing was me trying to control my hormones. It didn't work."
"I figured," she said.
She kisses me again, and I am happier than I have ever been.