Hi. It's Laynie. Who else would deign to entertain you so graciously?
It's been a few days, and I'm even more into Amy than I was when I wrote that sappy six-word journal entry. It's like, why in God's name wasn't I dating girls before this? Why wasn't I dating them when I was at the all-girls' school? Easy pickings and wide variety!
Psych. Nah, I'm not turning that gay. In fact, I'm not even sure we could really be classified as lesbians if we've never dated any other women... can you still own it if you're monogamous? Whatever, I'm not all that worked up about the supposed rules; as far as I'm concerned, I'm never going to date anybody who's not Amy again, so all those labels are kind of academic.
Bright still gives us grief, but it's way toned down. Good-natured ribbing, which I can totally handle; it means he's in our corner. Ephram asks how we are now and then. I tried to give him shit for talking to Bright about us behind our backs, but I think he's super bummed about losing Madison for good and trying not to bring us down with his moping, so I gave him a pass on the guilt trip. I hope he knows I'm there when he needs somebody to bitch at.
We have indeed used the Voracious Violet Variety Pack by now. Once. It was... raunchy. What, you want me to lie to you and say it was just as "beautiful" as without toys? Well, it's not, but it's still special. And really hot! But I think I prefer to have Amy all to myself, just touching, caressing, lips... most of the time, anyway.
Of course, nobody's even considering getting rid of the toys. Not ever. In fact, we've used Old Blue, Voracious Violet and the lace teddy all in the same session. How's that for a mental mural?
The most embarrassing thing that's happened since we "consummated" is when we were in Mama Joy's in the back booth, laughing and talking about some text she had got from Kayla or whatever (so beside the point) and Nina put her hands on both of our shoulders and asked how we were doing. The particular implication in her tone made all the colour drain from Amy's face, but I just laughed and told her we were fine.
"In fact, we're in seventh heaven," I amended with a big grin. "The state of being, not the smarmy TV show."
"Great," she told us in an undertone. "Between the crying and all, you girls did have me a little worried. Glad to hear it all worked itself out."
"N-no worries," Amy whispered, glowing now that her colour had come back (with a vengeance). "Life is a b-bowl of cherries, right, Laynie?"
"Don't mind her," I said conspiratorially. "She's a very timid, demure dyke."
While Nina laughed, Amy sank lower in the booth. Which made Nina ruffle her hair as if she were a sad puppy. Which she kind of is most of the time.
Neither of us have discussed our futures together, or coming out or anything dangerous. It's like, in the back of our minds every minute of the day, though; how we'd react if suddenly everybody knew, how we'd handle it, what we'd do first or if we'd even do anything at all. To be honest, even though Amy's the most nervous about us becoming locker room gossip, I have this feeling she'd be the first one to tell everybody it was none of their business. I'd probably just keep my head down and pretend I didn't hear anyone.
Knock on wood, we haven't had to find out yet.
The more we're together, the more I'm struck by something: I could look at her all day. A secret part of me always thought she was pretty, but before it was like, "God, I wish I was that conventionally cute." I'm cute, don't get me wrong; no unhealthy self-image thing going on in my head, thanks. But I'm a weird, dark kind of cute. If I had lost Colin and the attentions of my parents a few years earlier than I did, I'm pretty sure I'd have gone goth or something. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark outlook… and the occasional angsty poetry (haha). All that's missing are fishnets and black leather to contrast the inch-deep white foundation. Dodged a bullet there, right? Maybe not.
But Amy is… golden hair and sunshine, and supermodel proportions, and grace and beauty (from ballet, duh). I'm just this skinny doe-eyed freak next to her; by myself I'm almost attractive, but when we're out together they always ask Amy if she wants to "grab a soda" or whatever their line is that week. Never me, always Amy. I got used to that a long time ago.
Maybe this is my revenge on the universe that stuck me with a best friend so much cuter than me: I'm the one who gets her now. All those guys that passed me over for her are shit out of luck because the "trippy wing-chick" cut them off. Sorry Ephram, sorry Tommy Callahan… she's mine, not yours.
No, that wasn't bitchy at all.
Tomorrow night is our stupid Junior Prom. Bright still keeps trying to set Ephram and Amy up together, I think because he wants a ready excuse to hide the fact that his sister's gone butch (even though she hasn't). Neither of them is going for it. We'll see how that's going to turn out, I guess.
Oops, there's Amy calling; I have to go shut the door while I answer. Catch you later.
AUTHORESS'S NOTE: I apologize for the grand delay in posting this chapter, I really meant to get it uploaded sooner! As one might expect, it is Christmas Shopping Frenzy Time and not even the great Jessex is immune. Also Christmas Present Wrapping Frenzy Time, which is much worse since I am a perfectionist in all things, not the least of which is wrapping presents.
13: I kno, rite? lolz
NEXT: The Promabago rides out!