She struggled to carry in the heavy case of beer she stole from her parents’ basement and set it on the floor beside me. I could smell her perspiration, but didn’t hate it. She handed me the bottle opener, once she popped the cap off hers. “If you’re actually as straight as you claim, then why are you vibrating, Bree?”

That was Kelly. She was the prettiest girl in our grade, maybe the prettiest I’d ever seen in person. I wished my breasts were even half the size of hers. C cups looked huge, enormous, on a girl who was barely fourteen. She sat, leaning back against a pile of books, a bottle of cheap lager dangling from her fingertips.

I wasn’t actually vibrating, but my nerves were a humming, electric current running from the base of my spine up to my jaw. It was the first Friday night of Freshman year, at my new school, in a new town. My neighbors and I thought we were women, but only a few months ago we were middle school children.

The air in Val’s bedroom felt thick, like we were all breathing the same concentrated cloud of hormones, yeasty beer, and cheap perfume. Val, Michelle, and Dana were circled around me like predators who had just found a particularly confused piece of prey. My unpleasant beverage tasted a bit like hay smelled. Our conversation had drifted into the dangerous territory of desire. I had spent the last twenty minutes vehemently defending my heterosexuality, my voice pitching higher with every denial. I told them I was a traditionalist. I told them my heart only beat for the idea of a guy, specifically, a kind, honorable, macho, religious, strong, but virgin guy. I wanted to be the heroic hunk’s first time, too.

“Seriously, Bree,” Dana chimed in, her voice a low, knowing drawl. “Nobody is totally straight. It’s a spectrum. You’re just in the denial phase. Admit it: you’ve looked at a girl’s mouth and wondered what it tasted like. Just once. You’ve wanted a female to kiss your kitty. Just a little bit. Right?”

“Never!” I lied, the word coming out as a desperate squeak. “I have zero interest in females. None! Zero.”

The other four didn’t even blink. They shared a synchronized look of amusement, the kind of look that tells you your secrets are already known. They leaned in, a wall of feminine confidence, insisting that every girl is at least a little bit bisexual, that the attraction is always there, lurking under the surface of social expectations. I sat there, my face flushing a deep crimson, feeling the strange, conflicting heat of their attention. I wanted to scream that they were wrong, but as I looked at the way Val’s lips curled into a smirk, a traitorous spark of curiosity flickered in my gut, making my stomach flip in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the beer.

Then, without a word of warning, Kelly reached out and grabbed Dana by the collar of her t-shirt, yanking her forward. Their mouths crashed together in a messy, hungry collision that sounded like a wet slap. I froze, my eyes widening, as they didn’t even break the kiss to start roaming. Kelly’s hands slid beneath Dana’s top, her fingers digging into the soft curve of her small breasts, squeezing and kneading with a raw intensity that made my own chest ache. Dana let out a sharp, needy moan, her hands mirroring the movement, clutching Kelly’s chest through the thin fabric of her shirt, rubbing circles into her nipples.

Dana pulled back just an inch, her lips glistening and swollen, her eyes locked on mine with a predatory glint. “See? It’s not that hard to start,” she breathed, her voice dropping an octave. “I bet I could change your mind in five minutes, Bree. Just a few kisses, and you’d be begging for more.”

“Absolutely not!” I snapped, recoiling as if she’d offered me a poisonous drink. The sight of them was overwhelming, too much sensory information for my sheltered brain to process. “That’s ... it’s disgusting. The idea of lesbian sex is just repulsive.”

Val let out a loud, theatrical laugh, leaning forward until she was almost in my lap. “Repulsive? Please. You’re just terrified because you have no idea what you’re missing.” She paused, her eyes scanning my rigid posture and the way I was clutching my knees. “Wait. Be honest, Bree. Have you even seen anyone naked? Like, in person?”

I felt the air leave my lungs. I looked at the three of them, their expressions a mix of pity and fascination.

“No,” I whispered, the admission feeling like a confession of a crime. “I haven’t.”

Kelly let out a sound that was half-snort, half-gasp, leaning forward with a predatory grin. “Oh, for the love of God, Bree. You’re sitting here playing judge and jury on a menu you’ve never even tasted. How can you call it ‘repulsive’ when you don’t even know what it feels like?”