Chapter 2

The four of us continued to go out a couple of times a week. After a few months, I was settled into my job and felt fairly comfortable around town.

McKayla and I became close friends; I never got the feeling that she was hitting on me, but nor could I ignore the fact that there always seemed to be a sort of tension between us.

When our eyes would meet, for the briefest second there was just the two of us; the rest of the world faded away. She would smile at me, as if she knew something I didn't. Then I'd blink and look away, embarrassed.

This went on for a month or so until my birthday, which happened to fall on a Saturday night.

I was turning 23 and the girls took me out for an all-night bender. It started at my place when they came to pick me up. One of the advantages of working for a liquor distributor is that there is never a shortage of booze. Somehow, the inventory is always off by a bottle or two and no one ever seems to know where it went...

Bretlynn and I were hanging out trying to decide if we wanted to party with our friend Jose or our other friend The Captain when Allyson and McKayla showed up. After some friendly discussion, someone opened the Cuervo and the night began.

Things were fine for the first two hours and then my memory gets blurry. We went to dinner at P.F. Chang's. There was some more liquor involved, followed by dinner and some singing by the servers. Then we went out to the clubs. Allyson, Bretlynn and I got pretty hammered while McKayla took lots of incriminating pictures and babysat us. Someone needed to be our designated driver, after all.

In the midst of the tequila-induced haze, I have one lucid memory of that night.

We were at one of our favourite places. I was humping and grinding on anything that moved. Apparently it made me very popular with the guys there (and a couple of the girls, too).

Allyson had her backside stuck out and was shaking it suggestively towards me. I was making a big show out of smacking her playfully for everyone to see.

Turning over my shoulder, I saw McKayla dancing near us with an amused smile on her face. I don't know what came over me, but I reached out and pulled her to me.

Before she could react, I stuck my tongue into her mouth. I'm sure it was wonderful for her. Here I was—drunk out of my mind, smelling of smoke and too much perfume, tasting of tequila and God only knows what else—trying to make out with her.

Very romantic, don't you think?

I remember her eyes getting real big for just a second, then she pulled back and, for the first time I could recall, McKayla appeared to be at a loss for words or what to do.

With a drunken laugh, I turned back to Allyson and we continued to dance, but I remember McKayla standing there for a long moment, as if she was wondering what signal I was sending.

The girls later told me the night ended when the bars closed. I have to take their word for it. The next morning was ugly. I hadn't had a night like that since college. Granted that wasn't too long ago, but still, you'd think that I'd have learned my lesson after the last time. Or two.

I woke up with a splitting headache. You know the kind: It's where you spend the next three hours puking your guts out, all the while saying to yourself (repeat after me), "Dear God, I promise I will never drink that much again ... if You will only make the throbbing go away and the room stop spinning. Amen."

Thankfully, wherever I had ended up, someone had the good sense to draw the curtains closed and the neighbours were mercifully quiet. That could only mean I was no where near my apartment. After all, the kids on the other side of my bedroom wall were always up at 7 am and raising hell by 7:15. The superintendent liked to mow the lawn early in the morning, and I had (unfortunately) gotten a unit that was near the pool, which on a nice summer day was usually busy and crawling with urchin children from Hell.

Trying not to upset my internal equilibrium, I looked around the room for a clock. It was a little after noon. I moaned and rubbed my temples.

It took me a few minutes until I could bring myself to sit up. I let out a stream of unladylike curses under my breath and willed myself not to throw up on the very nice duvet.

Someone had changed me out of my clothes and into a long nightshirt. Underneath, my panties were on, but my bra was gone. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and then looked around (but not too quickly) to see where I was.

I didn't immediately recognise anything. There was a picture of two people about my uncle's age next to the clock radio. A couple of paintings hung from the walls. A solid oak dresser and nightstand matched the very nice (and probably expensive) headboard.

There were three doors in the room. I stumbled towards one of them and fumbled with the handle. It opened into a hallway. The sunlight coming from an open window hit me and I recoiled back into the bedroom. I tried door number two.

It was the one I was looking for: the bathroom.

I dropped my panties and plopped down on the toilet, as relieved to be off my feet as anything else.

The recent activity only made me feel worse. My head still throbbed.

"Amberle?" I heard a voice call. McKayla. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

Her footsteps came down the hall. I heard the door to the bedroom open and saw McKayla poke her head into the room. She turned and saw me in her bathroom.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said and quickly closed the door.

I finished my business and then stood, very slowly. I stumbled out of the bathroom and out into the bright hallway. McKayla was waiting for me. She was all dressed up in a nice pants suit and leaning against the doorframe.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was soft, probably knowing that loud noises weren't going to be good for me.

"Like shit," I replied feebly as my eyes adjusted. The taste in my mouth was stale, a mixture of tequila, beer and morning breath.

McKayla only smiled.

She walked me to the kitchen and led me to a table in front of a nice bay window. The bright sunlight stung my eyes, but the view of the water blew me away. Her house was right on the beach. Off the deck was a walkway going over the dunes right on to the sand.

I had never been to her place before. I knew she lived a little ways north and that she lived by herself, but I had no idea her home was this nice. She usually came over to one of our dumpy apartments because Allyson, Bretlynn and I lived closer to the clubs and the action.

For the next several moments, I only stared out her window dumbly. She pushed a bottle of Sprite into my hands which I drank reflexively.

"Feel like something to eat?" she asked.

I could only nod.

"I've got cereal, toast, bagels and waffles," McKayla said. "Take your pick."

"I'll have a bagel," I mumbled, turning away from the window.

Her kitchen was spacious and warm. The appliances were shiny and looked as if they had been taken out of the box maybe a month before. I could only imagine how much her place cost; right on the beach, almost brand new and big.

Efficiently, McKayla fixed me a plain bagel with cream cheese, then sat down next to me. I nibbled at the food, not really hungry, but I knew I had to get something into my stomach. I just hoped I could keep it down.

"I didn't do anything stupid last night, did I?" I finally managed to ask.

She smiled slightly. "Not really."

It was then that I remembered my drunken pass at her. I looked away, embarrassed. If she was going to call me on it, that was the time, but she didn't.

"Where are Allyson and Bretlynn?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Allyson is in one of the guest bedrooms," McKayla replied gently. "I took Bretlynn home on the way to mass."

"You go to church?" I asked.

"Every Sunday," she said, very matter-of-factly.

I was taken aback by her reply. I didn't figure being Catholic and a homosexual went together very well, given the papal stance on same-sex relations. What did I know, though? My family wasn't very religious and I never went to church regularly.

"Eat up," McKayla said gently and patted my hand. Then she stood. "I'm going to wake up Allyson and then get you girls home."

As she walked away, I wished her touch had lasted a little bit longer.

McKayla got us up and dressed, then took us back to our apartments. There was no throwing up involved. Just a massive headache. I sat on my couch for the rest of the day, partly hungover, partly confused.

What was it about her that gave me chills just thinking about her? Was it really a sexual kind of arousal? She was certainly a pretty girl. Plus she was smart, funny and kind. However, I had never had any sort of lesbian feelings. I liked guys; that much had always been certain.

Still, I couldn't deny that there was some sort of attraction between us. And it wasn't just as friends. There was just something about her...

The memory of our kiss—however fleeting, however clouded by liquor—was the only thing from the previous night that was crystal clear in my mind. Her lips were so soft. Her touch so gentle. Just the thought of that kiss made me tingle from head to toe. What did it mean?

The next week flew by. We had plans to go out on Saturday night and it was my week to be the DD, which was kind of a relief since I didn't feel like drinking much anyway.

We decided to go out for dinner and then hang out along the boardwalk.

There is a really nice seafood restaurant that's right on the intercoastal and not too far from my apartment. There's a dock around back, and in the early afternoon a boat pulls up and unloads the day's catch. Talk about a fresh meal.

McKayla came over to my place after work and then we went to pick up Allyson and Bretlynn. There was a palpable tension in the air between us but neither of us wanted to talk about it, or even acknowledge it.

While waiting for our names to be called, Allyson and Bretlynn had a glass (or two) of wine. We sat on the deck watching the sun set and making small talk. The restaurant pager went off and we got up to go inside.

On the way, we passed another group of girls. One of them waved at McKayla.

"Hey," she said shyly.

"Hi," McKayla replied, her usual poise gone, suddenly becoming uncomfortable. She stopped for a second and the rest of us piled up behind her.

"How have you been?" the girl asked. She took a tentative step forward. Familiar.

"Okay. You?"

"Good."

McKayla shifted nervously and flashed the blinking pager in her hand. "Our table just got called. I'll see you around."

"Um ... okay." It might have been my imagination, but I thought she sounded disappointed. What I knew wasn't my imagination was the twinge of jealousy I felt from the pit of my stomach.

We were seated and were looking over the menu. McKayla looked like she wanted to disappear behind hers.

"Who was that?" Allyson asked casually. When she's drinking, sometimes she says things she might not say otherwise.

McKayla blushed. "Vicki Damron."

"Didn't you—" Allyson started.

"Yes," McKayla said curtly. She lowered her menu enough to shoot Allyson a stop-talking-now-or-I'm-going-to-smack-you look.

Bretlynn giggled at the other girl's obvious discomfort. I watched McKayla's reaction carefully. She wouldn't make eye contact with me.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Allyson and Bretlynn let the subject drop and moved on to gossip about their friends and other topics. McKayla still wouldn't look at me. Her face was flushed with what I thought was embarrassment and maybe a little bit of shame.

A little while later, we were back in my car and headed downtown. We parked on a public lot and then headed over towards the boardwalk. There were a couple of dives and clubs we frequented there. I didn't feel much like dancing and if I let myself admit it, I really wanted to be rid of Allyson and Bretlynn.

The four of us stopped at a place that had a deck off the back. Allyson went to the bar and brought drinks for the three who were drinking. Our two companions were already pretty loose; McKayla was uncharacteristically quiet.

We talked for a while and then guys started showing up to hit on us. It was a familiar pattern. Allyson and Bretlynn reveled in the attention. McKayla and I politely waved off all but the most persistent ones; those we shot down mercilessly. After a few minutes, the pair disappeared with a couple of guys to the dance area in front of the band.

That left McKayla and I sitting at the table in one corner of the deck. The silence between us was deafening. Neither of us wanted to start the conversation.

McKayla stared off into the distance. A warm sea breeze blew in.

"She wasn't my girlfriend," McKayla said softly. Almost apologetically. I could barely hear her above the music and the chatter. "We just went out a couple of times."

"No chemistry?" I asked. There were butterflies in my stomach.

The other girl shifted uncomfortably. "There was lots of chemistry."

"So what happened?"

There was a long pause. McKayla looked down for just a second, then let out a bitter sigh. "The same thing that happens every time: my head keeps getting stuck up my ass."

I didn't know what to say. I don't know why, but I reached across the table and took her hand. She was trembling. McKayla looked up at me for the first time that night and tried to smile.

Something I had never seen before was in her eyes. Fear.

"Why?" I whispered.

"I don't know," she said, her frustration evident.

"Afraid of being hurt?"

"I think I'm afraid of being happy."

My hand squeezed hers gently.

She wiped her eyes. "It seems like every time things start to go my way, something comes along and kicks me right in the ass."

This was the first time she had ever opened up to me like this. Her self-assured persona was gone, wiped away for just a brief moment. I didn't know what to say.