Girl Crush(31)

He stood so fast he lost his balance. “Aww, fuck. What the hell did you two do here?”

I couldn’t stop laughing. Clearly, he was distraught by the thought of his sister and me performing some deviant act on his leather sofa. I refused to answer and opted for uncontrollable laughter instead.

“Jesus. This is Italian leather.” He turned to stare at the couch, although I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “Just tell me this…do I need to have it cleaned?”

“I guess that depends on how close you and your sister really are.”

“Giselle. This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Fine, you sit in whatever it is.”

I plopped down on the spot he was now afraid of to wait for Beck.

After several long minutes of silence, he couldn’t stop his obsession. “Seriously, Giselle. Tell me what you two did on my couch.”

I waved him off and rolled my eyes. “Nothing. We ate ice cream.”

“Is that code for something else?”

“Yeah, West. We covered each other in Ben & Jerry’s and licked it off before it dripped on the sofa.” I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “I swear to God nothing happened between your sister and me. Ever.”

“Were you the rebound girl?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this with Collier, but since Beck hadn’t shown up, and I was sitting on his couch in his living room, I didn’t think I had much of a choice but to answer his questions.

“Maybe. I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it. Obviously, she wanted to be with Stella. I think she was just lonely when we met.”

“Were you?” He’d settled into the corner of the sectional and propped his feet up. His eyes were soft, and his features relaxed. This was the side of West I liked to be around.

“Lonely?”

He nodded.

“Umm. I wouldn’t say lonely. I mean, I have friends and a job.”

“So how’d you end up meeting Beck?”

This was embarrassing. “Does it matter?” I didn’t want to admit to using an online dating site.

“Nah, I don’t guess so. So you’re cool with being her friend and her being with Stella?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl like you. You dig cars, I hear you’re a fan of roller derby, you’re easy on the eyes, drink like a fish and cuss like a sailor, and can hang with the guys like you’re one of them. Why do unicorns have to be lesbians?”

I needed to change the subject before I ended up spilling my guts. “Can I drive your car?”

“No.” He hadn’t even given it the slightest bit of consideration.

“Why not?” I screeched in a girlish fashion.

“Because you wear heels and girls grind the clutch.”

“I’ll take the heels off. And what girl ground your clutch?”

“Are we talking about the car or was that a metaphor for the lack of a woman in my life?”

I ignored his comment. “I can handle a stick. I’ve never had a man complain, and I’ve certainly never ground one’s gears.” Somehow, I’d shut him up, but I hadn’t intended to. “Please, Collier.”

“No. And stop calling me Collier. It’s too formal.”

I wanted to drive that car. And if I had to play dirty to get to, I would.

“West…” I purred his name in his direction. “Is that better?” My voice had dropped half an octave and taken on a sultry tone.

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. But he didn’t nod or answer. The green in his eyes took on a golden hue and warmed. If I had to guess, I’d bet he was aroused, but since he thought I chased ponytails instead of crew cuts, there was no way he’d respond.

I crawled toward him on the couch, my cleavage slightly exposed. My shorts were short when I stood, so when crawling, they barely covered my panties. “West,” I repeated his name, but this time, it was like a whisper of warm wind. The closer I got, the more he tensed. Slowly, I’d managed to crawl up the length of his body on his oversized couch and now hovered over him, straddling his waist with my knees, my hands on either side of his head. The vein on the side of his neck strummed a healthy beat visible under the skin. He waited for me to make my next move.

I leaned down, placing my lips so close to his ear they brushed it when I begged, “Please.”

At the sound of his sister bursting through the front door, he grabbed my hips with both hands, lifted me off the couch, and placed me on the floor. His face was flush, and I saw him adjust himself from the corner of my eyes when I turned to say hello to Beck.

I left West on the couch to deal with whatever was going on in his pants and followed his sister to her room. We spent the rest of the afternoon discussing my lesbian debacle and how to overcome my fear of women.

“Try men.”

She was no more help than Ronnie would have been, but at least she’d only made one crack about my inability to become a lesbian. Although, it was followed by a comment regarding her brother’s interest—which I ignored.





7





My dating debacles seemed to bring all the women in my life together. Somehow, through no fault of my own, Veronica, Trish, Beck, Stella, and Roxie had all formed an alliance against my sexuality. One would think lesbians would welcome other women into their tribe, encourage them to explore the nether lips, embrace the love of estrogen—not my friends. The more time I spent with them, the closer we all became, which was great, except they’d united in a plight to return me to the heterosexual dating pool. I felt cheated, unwanted. I threatened to call the LGBTQ Human Alliance about their discrimination, to which they all found great humor.