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Needy’s problems all began on a Thursday night, after Jennifer went out to a house party thrown by some sorority girls. Jennifer wanted Needy to come, obviously, but Needy had a test on Friday afternoon, and unlike some people, she reminded Jennifer, she couldn’t just study the day of.
She’s in the kitchen of their apartment, books scattered across the table and making herself some mac ‘n cheese. This would serve as not only dinner but as Jennifer’s hung-over breakfast, where she would drink raw eggs and eat whatever was in the fridge cold.
Needy smiles a little as she stirs the cheese in. Hungover Jennifer was one of the few times that Jennifer was imperfect. Not that Needy wanted her to suffer; it was just cute, seeing Jennifer wander around with raccoon mascara, whining for Needy to turn off the sun. One of her top ten Jennifer moods, better than angry Jennifer but definitely less sweet than protective Jennifer or party Jennifer.
The doorknob rattles, grabbing Needy’s attention.
“Needs,” a drunk Jennifer wails through the door. “Needs I can’t open the door.”
She continues to rattle the doorknob until Needy opens the door for her, surprised to find Jennifer with a blonde woman. Jennifer usually didn’t bring friends home, but there was a first time for anything.
Needy takes Jennifer’s keys out of the door as the two of them push past her, and-
Oh, they’re making out.
Needy wants to look away and be polite; for some reason, though, she’s glued to it. Jennifer is sticking her tongue in this blonde woman’s mouth and Needy feels like she’s going to pass out. Her stomach is roiling.
“Jen!” Oh god, is that her voice? Needy cringes and tries to correct. “Uh, who is this?” Too deep. That was too much of a correction.
Jennifer lazily separates her mouth from the blonde woman’s, featuring an audible noise of their lips parting.
“This is Melissa,” Jennifer says, voice only marginally slurred.
Melissa waves, which requires her to take her hand out from under Jennifer’s shirt.
“We’re going to bone,” Jennifer says, tactful as ever. Melissa giggles, which starts Jennifer giggling, and for a minute they just stand there, laughing and holding each other.
Needy bites her lip to stop herself from saying anything. The two of them make her want to peel her own skin off. Probably just because she hates PDA.
Melissa is gone when Needy wakes up, which is fine.
Rude of her, but fine, because Needy gets an adorably grumpy Jennifer all to herself. She tends to her a little more than usual- cracking her eggs, heating the leftovers, and getting her tylenol for her headache- and Jennifer graciously accepts it like the Snowflake Queen she is.
“Melissa seems nice,” Needy says, trying to keep her voice even. She’s at the stove frying her own egg; it seems safest to broach the subject when she doesn’t have to look Jennifer in the eyes.
“Yeah, she sure treated me nice.”
Needy shudders and Jennifer laughs.
“Don’t be homophobic, Les-nicki,” Jennifer says, teasingly exaggerating the first part of Needy’s last name. “I’m going to shower.”
Needy freezes while Jennifer dumps her egg glass in the sink, pressing a kiss to Needy's cheek. Needy can hardly feel it.
Wait, is that sinking feeling in her stomach- the deep dread at Jennifer seeing Melissa again-
Is she homophobic? Was this her catholic upbringing coming to collect?
She hated all the guys that Jennifer had dated previously, sure. That's because they were scummy douchebags. Melissa didn’t display any signs of douchebaggery, but Needy and her were only in the same room for five minutes.
No, that must be it. Needy just hates the people Jennifer dates. This is normal and fine, since they're best friends. She’s protective. Luckily, there’s only a slim chance that she’ll see Melissa again- Jennifer rarely goes for the same person twice.
Plus, Needy knows tons of gay people. Sam. Veronica. Elliot from English class. Joan from physics. The barista at the coffee shop with the dyed hair. She can't be homophobic.
Needy is discovering a new well of hatred for Melissa and possibly all PDA, because she feels miserable when encountering couples on campus and even worse when Melissa is in their apartment. Maybe she’s a horrible prude? Her and Chip did have sex, but it was never good. It might have been going to church so much when she was little. Subliminal.
Either way, she can’t focus on any of her homework and she hardly gets to see Jennifer anymore. Melissa’s always coming over, sitting on the couch- practically on top of Jennifer, like the living room isn’t a public space- making Jennifer laugh and flick her hair, the same way she did when she was flirting with guys. They listen to the same pop-punk albums and have the same kind of mean jokes.
Are they dating? What is going on there? Why won’t Jennifer just talk to her?
All of her feelings churn around inside of her and Needy’s afraid that if she opens her mouth something ugly will come out.
Losing Jennifer is one of Needy’s biggest fears. They only came close once in high school, the welling up of a hundred different little issues disguised as a fight about Chip. Thinking back, it was more about Jennifer’s controlling tendencies and Needy’s inability to communicate her emotions than Chip- and the few weeks they spent apart were the worst. She glimpsed Jennifer in the halls, looking no better than Needy herself, and Needy felt so bad and so certain it was Jennifer's fault at the same time.
Surprisingly, Jennifer was the one to apologize. She came by Needy’s locker, fiddling with her BFF necklace like she did when she was nervous, and asked to come over to Needy's and talk. They both apologized; Needy broke up with Chip and went to the spring dance and senior prom with Jennifer. Needy still had one of the photos from prom on her desk, with her and Jennifer in matching dresses and cheesy poses.
So Needy couldn’t lose Jennifer over whatever she was feeling about Melissa. They had always been best friends, they always would be, and Needy would put this aside.
Needy listens to them laughing from her room and has to unclench her jaw.
She looks down at her unfinished physics homework and hears them break out into another peal of laughter. Her jaw clenches again.
Jennifer slips into Needy’s bed one night. This isn’t unusual- sometimes they sleep next to each other if Jennifer is stressed. She likes to hear Needy’s heartbeat, she says, and Jennifer has always had terrible circulation, tucking her cold feet in with Needy’s warm legs. It’s been that way since they were kids.
Jennifer entwines their legs, the two of them making a set of parentheses with their hands joined in the middle, heads pressed together. This sweet tenderness from her sends an ache through Needy’s heart that ripples out to her hands and toes, making them tingle; it’s not often that Jennifer opens herself up to affection like this, and Needy hopes it’ll happen more.
“I haven’t seen you lately,” Jennifer says. “What are you doing so much homework for?”
“Passing my classes?”
Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Stupid.”
“I know.”
There’s a pause. Jennifer takes a deep breath.
“Needs…” she sighs. “I think…”
Needy squeezes Jennifer’s hands, doing her best to beam love at Jennifer.
“I’m kind of gay, or whatever,” Jennifer mutters. She scowls at Needy. “And if you don’t like it, I’m crossing you out.”
“Jennifer, I could never stop loving you,” Needy says. It's true. Nothing but love and pride wash over her for Jennifer and how brave and strong she is. She brings her hand up to Jennifer’s face and cups it, caressing Jennifer’s cheek with her thumb. “And I’m so happy you could tell me this.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jennifer says, closing her eyes as she leans into Needy’s hand. “Love you too. Bitch.”
“So are you just attracted to women?” Needy asks.
Jennifer nods. “All those dudes in high school were the worst.”
“They were,” Needy says, and rallies herself, heart racing, to ask, “So… are you and Melissa…”
“Eh.” Jennifer makes her best attempt at a shrug. “She’s nice, you know.”
“Sure,” says Needy, who would be happy never seeing Melissa again for the rest of her life.
Jennifer turns around, the signal for Needy to pull them together to spoon and go to sleep. Needy doesn’t mind being the big spoon, despite being shorter; she likes her arms around Jennifer, keeping her warm, and she feels like they can never be parted.
She wakes up to the smell of Jennifer’s shampoo, her nose right against the base of Jennifer’s neck, and the softness of Jennifer's skin where her pajamas have hiked up. Needy's wrapped around her like a vine.
Melissa doesn’t stick around for long after that; apparently not even homosexuality can make Jennifer terribly monogamous. The satisfaction Needy gets from this is because obviously Melissa was terrible, and she knew it the whole time.
Needy knows that soon there will be another, but for now she treasures the time she has with Jennifer alone: best friends together. She makes Jennifer’s favorite foods and indulges her bad habits, like mocking people she sees on the quad and their professors.
Needy does her homework in the living room with Jennifer again, and she’s the one who gets to make Jennifer laugh. They stay in together.
Jennifer likes crime reenactments and forensic files, because she’s kind of a gorehound, and Needy gives her full control of the remote even though she thinks it’s gross. She’s happy to cuddle Jennifer on the couch, the familiar weight of Jennifer against her shoulder reminding her of when they were kids. When she’s cooking Jennifer will come up behind her and press against her back, arms around Needy’s waist, and compliment Needy’s attempt at ramen and eggs.
Best friends forever, Needy thinks. She finds herself touching her necklace more, smiling when she can hug Jennifer first thing when she wakes up without worrying if Melissa would be there. Everything is good and right with the world for like a week and a half.
Joan from Needy’s physics class is the worst. The worst person in the world. Asking Needy for Jennifer’s number! Like Needy is Jennifer’s date valet!
Needy stubbornly blocks out all the times that Joan has lent her pencils, or asked really thoughtful questions in class. Her dark hair doesn’t look soft and her short haircut is stupid- and plaid button downs? What a cliche. And you know what, Needy takes back all the times she thought that Joan would be good at hugging. She probably wasn’t even Jennifer’s type, not that Needy knew what that type was, or would be, whatever.
Obviously Needy said no because it was her rule for anybody who wanted Jennifer’s number- a firm no. Not because of the woman thing. Jennifer didn’t deserve to get texts from random creeps of any gender.
Joan’s simple acceptance of this was also not a sign of any gentlewomanly behavior on her part either. Needy didn’t award gold stars for being a decent person.
You had to be exceptional to date Jennifer anyway, Needy thinks. Jennifer’s taste in men had never been great personality-wise, but she loved pretty boys. Or at least she used to. Jennifer was probably only into really hot girls, like Jennifer herself, so beautiful that you couldn’t figure out if they were real. Melissa was like that, Needy could begrudgingly admit. That’s how Jennifer always was, even when everybody was going through puberty in the worst way- she retained a sense of grace, a radiance nobody could touch. Melissa was almost as attractive as Jennifer, and that made sense. Jennifer wanted people who were as hot as she was and got them; Needy wanted- well, nobody right now, and got Chip, who was sweet and kind of a dork.
When Needy gets home she tells Jennifer, casually, about Joan asking for her number, and ignores the rush of relief upon hearing that Jennifer wasn’t interested in random people texting her.
She’s glad that Jennifer’s developing standards, of course.
Jennifer has a new girl around called Sarah, who majors in pre-law and is, like Melissa, very interested in being at their apartment all the time. It’s not that Needy doesn’t understand- she wants to be around Jennifer all the time too- but does Sarah not have her own apartment where she can go? And not be in Needy’s apartment?
Sarah is prettier and more polite than Melissa was, which Needy hates. She worries about Jennifer. Does Sarah think she’s better than Jennifer? Is her politeness a facade?
Sarah is so calculating and serious, keeping her blonde hair in a tight ponytail all the time and dressing like an accountant. Jennifer’s loose and wild, and she hates planning, which Sarah does down to the minute. She’s not right for Jennifer, even though she’s quiet and mostly kind all the time, which are all good traits for a partner. She doesn’t even really react to Jennifer’s ruder tendencies.
Whatever she does or doesn't do, Needy hates Sarah and she brings a squirmy, bitter feeling to Needy’s insides. She doesn’t like hating people and it happens too much lately; Needy does her best to play nice for Jennifer’s sake.
She tries to spends more time with Sarah on purpose to break herself out of the dislike, but that gives her more to hate. Sarah has a lot of idiosyncrasies: she uses up all the pens in the apartment common areas, she takes way too long to brush her teeth in the morning, and she has some kind of obsession with labeling all of her possessions with her name in sharpie. Like she’s five.
Jennifer smells more like Sarah’s body wash than her and Needy's, and she steals Sarah’s button downs and wears them with too many of the buttons undone, exposing her delicate collarbones and the hickies Sarah’s left. Even when Sarah isn’t in their apartment Jennifer plays the kinds of softer indie rock that Sarah prefers.
Needy doesn’t know what to do.
It was inevitable, in a way, that this would happen, the day of calamity, of total disaster- the day of Jennifer taking Needy to a real club, packed with people and dancing, where there were bright lights, music, and nobody knew they were underage. They did a few shots in celebration, or rather Jennifer ordered jello shots and asked Needy if she wanted to try one, which she did. It was slimy and disgusting. She then did another, which was a different color but equally as slimy. The third one Needy did half of, and then made Jennifer finish it. After that, Needy then gave up on shots, and Jennifer went off to dance.
The bass of the sound system rattles Needy, adding another beat to her heart with the way it makes her blood pulse. Needy can’t hear anything over it, and the shots have settled a calm over her that makes everything seem okay. She lingers at a table near the wall and watches Jennifer dance, catching flashes of her under the multicolored lights. They’re playing a remix of Usher’s “Yeah” and Jennifer’s bouncing along, looking beautiful as ever.
A young woman siddles up to her and starts shouting right into Needy’s ear.
“---- alone ----?” Needy makes out. The woman is wearing a low cut dress and is tall enough that Needy has to tilt her head back to meet the woman’s eyes.
“Yeah,” she shouts back, nodding to punctuate her agreement.
“Drink ----? ---- trust ----. Bar’s ---- shit.”
Needy shrugs. She’s already at a club, and Jennifer will be dancing for a while. The shots weren't that bad, in the end- another drink can't hurt. “Okay.”
The woman winks and disappears, her dress twirling as she ducks through the crowd around the bar. She reappears far quicker than Needy expected holding two brightly colored cocktails.
“CHEERS,” she says, and they both take a drink.
It tastes like pineapple and mango. Not slimy. Needy doesn’t mind it, and has another sip.
“Thanks,” Needy says, bopping awkwardly to the music. Should she pretend to enjoy this more, now that another person was with her? She looks up from her drink to see the woman’s eyes locked onto hers. They’re magnetic in their focus.
“What’s ---- doing ----,” the woman says. “---- college?”
“I can’t hear you,” Needy yells back.
“Want ---- quiet?” the woman asks.
Needy nods vigorously. Her ears hurt so bad, and she wouldn’t mind making awkward conversation with a stranger if she got to breathe air that didn’t smell like cheap beer.
The woman takes her hand; they’re both overly warm, a little sweaty, and Needy blindly follows her through the press of people. She has soft hands, Needy thinks, and has another drink. The aftertaste burns a little this time.
They end up outside the club in an alleyway where several smokers gather in circles. Plumes of smoke rise from where they group, exhaling into one big cancerous cloud. The smell of it almost makes her want to go back inside. Needy coughs as they pass them, then a dumpster, and finally, after the chemical scent of the man tagging the filthy bricks of the building next door, there is fresh air. They’re on the corner across from the club, music but a distant echo as they stand under a streetlight. It’s covered in stickers for bands and people that Needy doesn’t recognize, and it kind of gives her a headache trying to read all of them. Everything's kind of fuzzy.
Needy’s ears ring for a while, then settle into the noises of the street. There’s the hum of cars from the highway off ramp down a few blocks, the mutterings of the line going into the club, and the woman, who is humming a song Needy can’t place.
“Thanks,” Needy says. “You know, I’m pretty sure those things are why people are deafer in old age.”
The woman thankfully laughs. “I’m Carmen, if you didn’t catch it earlier.”
“Needy,” Needy says. “It’s short for Anita.” She takes a nervous, long drink from the glass. It’s not as warm outside and the sweat cooling on her body makes her feel gross. She kind of wishes Jennifer was outside, complaining about the trash on the street and the guys in the club, but Carmen seems nice too.
“Are you cold?” Needy asks Carmen. Should Needy give Carmen her sweater? Would Carmen want that?
“I don’t get cold,” Carmen says. She squeezes Needy’s hand. “Good circulation.”
Needy’s attention is drawn to their still joined hands. Carmen is wearing one of those rubber bracelets with their school’s name on it, and her nails are short and painted pink; Needy releases her grip and shoves her hand awkwardly in her back pocket. “Cool.”
“And what do you do, Needy?”
“Study, I guess. I go to state,” Needy says. Carmen watches her like she really cares what Needy has to say so Needy amends: “Hang out with my best friend, too. Jennifer. She brought me here.”
“And left you?” Carmen seems amused.
“She likes to dance more than I do.”
“At least you like your drink?” Carmen asks, gesturing at Needy’s near-empty glass with her own mostly full one. “I told you I’m good.”
“You could have told me anything, it was too loud to think in there,” Needy says. Every time she blinks her eyelids seem heavier, but she tries to focus.
Carmen laughs, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. Needy can see now that it’s dyed a deep purple. “But I didn’t, did I?”
“True,” Needy says. The yellow of the streetlight makes everything look warmer- Carmen’s smile is big, and reminds Needy of Jennifer in her best mood, winning a color guard meet or being mean to boys.
Jennifer’s still in there dancing. “Jennifer’s still in there dancing,” Needy tells Carmen. “I miss her.”
“Why’d you come?” Carmen asks. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
“Jennifer needs a wingwoman, I guess. Not that she seems like it.” Needy reaches the end of her drink.
“Here, have the rest of mine,” Carmen offers. She's so nice.
Needy accepts just to have something to do with her hands. “I hate it when Jennifer dates people,” she says. She goes on to explain more about Jennifer, drinking intermittently- her hair is so shiny and perfect and she smells good, even after gym class when they were in high school, they went to school together and they’ve known each other- so long, so so long- sandbox love- they shouldn’t ever be apart-
“Forget about Jennifer,” Carmen says, moving closer to Needy. “Tell me more about yourself.”
“I think I’m homophobic because Jennifer’s dating girls now,” Needy says. It’s been festering in her, and she feels sort of dizzy and light, like she could tell Carmen anything. Carmen has great taste in drinks and she's been so nice.
Carmen’s eyebrows furrow.
“Do you think it’s homophobic- that I want to- want to keep her to myself?” Needy asks.
“Oh, christ.” Carmen rolls her eyes. She leans back against the streetlight pole. “No, it’s not homophobic.”
“I think it kind of is,” Needy says. She blinks rapidly. “It’s really hard.”
Carmen sighs. “I know it’s hard.”
“It makes me so upset.”
“I’m gay, Needy. Are you feeling homophobic now?” Carmen asks.
Needy takes the question seriously and studies Carmen and her feelings. Carmen’s smirk makes her feel on top of everything, a little bit like Jennifer’s does, as if the sun is still shining on her in a sandbox somewhere. She doesn’t hate Carmen, or feel disgusted. Carmen is still as beautiful and interesting as she was before Needy knew she was gay. “No?” Needy says. “You’re really pretty, and nice. Maybe I don’t know you well enough to be homophobic yet.”
Carmen covers her face with her hands, and there’s a pause where Carmen appears to be crying. Or laughing. Either way, her shoulders won’t stop shaking.
“I think you’re just gay,” Carmen says.
Needy shakes her head. It makes her dizzier, so she walks over, leaning on Carmen for support. “But I dated Chip. I’m a rotten homophobe.”
“Bi, then,” Carmen says.
“I have to- leave?” Needy’s eyes well up with tears.
Carmen wraps her arm around Needy’s shoulders comfortingly. “Bisexual, you drunk idiot.”
Needy settles her weight on Carmen. She smells so good, like sweet fruit. How could anybody that smells good not understand the problem here? “No, Jennifer told me she’s gay.”
“Good for her, I guess.”
“I can’t be. I’ve only dated men, and when Jennifer and Melissa kissed I felt so- like- angry,” Needy tries to explain. “I’m bad. I’m a bad homophobe.”
“You’re a lightweight is what you are.” Carmen pats Needy’s head. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?” Needy asks, handing over her phone. Is Carmen going to give Needy the number of a homophobia counselling office? Does that kind of thing even exist?
Carmen flips it open. “I’m calling Jennifer.”
“No!” Needy lunges for the phone. “Don’t tell on me!”
“What- no-” Carmen spins, avoiding Needy’s grabbing hands with her superior height. She is not nice, and is actually super mean, saying words on the phone to Jennifer. What kind of person betrays another person about things said in confidence- other than the homophobia Needy has never done anything-
“Super drunk, yeah,” Carmen says, interrupting Needy’s mental breakdown. She hands the phone to Needy. “Here you go.”
“Jennifer it’s all lies,” Needy blurts.
The phone makes Jennifer’s laugh tinny. “You’re not drunk?”
“Maybe. I’m dizzy,” Needy says, slumping against Carmen’s side again. She’s very tired now, with the emotional weight of being a secret homophobe somewhat lifted. The alcohol isn't helping.
“Where are you?”
“Outside.” Needy looks around for identifying markers. “There’s the alley, and a corner, and a streetlight.”
Jennifer hangs up.
Great.
Needy looks up at Carmen. “Thanks?” Her voice wavers. Needy’s not sure what level of graciousness to show her.
“She needs to take you home,” Carmen says.
“Do you really think I’m not a homophobe?” Needy sniffles and wraps her arms around Carmen’s waist to steady herself.
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
Needy smiles at her. “You kind of remind me of Jennifer.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Carmen rolls her eyes.
“You’re both so pretty.” Needy closes her eyes, only to have Carmen smack her.
“Stay awake.”
“What?” Needy blinks herself awake. “Is Jennifer here?”
“Not yet,” Carmen says. She strokes Needy’s hair. “Soon, I’m sure.”
“I want Jennifer,” Needy whines. She’s probably being annoying, but she doesn’t care. She’s hardly ever drunk and her head is spinning. Maybe she should have done more shots with Jennifer in high school to build up a tolerance? Needy can’t imagine why that could have been a bad idea. Her and Jennifer ended up at the same college, after all.
Carmen laughs. “I gave you my phone number. Call me after this.”
“You’re the best,” Needy says, and that’s the last thing she remembers.
Needy wakes up the next day with a pounding headache and a full-body misery. Her pillow smells like garbage when she scrunches her face against it to block out the sunlight; eventually she has to face the day, though, and she sits up. On her bedside table is a note that says “wnt 2 clss lzr” in Jennifer’s illegible handwriting underneath a bottle of water and some aspirin. Thank god for Jennifer, Needy thought, taking the painkillers. Needy leans over to grab her phone, wincing at the light when she flips it open, and checks her phone to see several text messages from someone named Carmen?
Last night her and Jennifer went out drinking- she met a girl, who must be Carmen?- and they were talking?-
Oh no.
Oh. Oh no.
Needy groans and flops back down. Guilt floods through her system. Could she be any more of a lightweight? Who goes around admitting to homophobia under the influence? Could she be any more of a weird jerk, a creep, a horrible-
Her internal monologue breaks with another chime from her phone. She scrolls past the older messages, since most of them were repetitions on her name, and down to the most recent.
Carmen: r u gunna wallow all day or r u still drunk
Needy: wallow
Needy: why
Carmen: want 2 not b a homophobe anymore
Needy: are you serious?
Needy: don’t make fun of me
Carmen: deadly
Carmen: who don’t want less homophobes
Carmen: not me
Needy: well…
Needy parses the double negatives and thinks about it. She’d do anything to keep Jennifer around, and here’s a perfect solution. She can get over it without Jennifer knowing a thing.
Needy: fine
She finalizes plans to meet in the next couple of days and then rolls over to go back to sleep. Between her pounding head and her swirling thoughts it takes a while, but she eventually sinks into slippery dreams of dark-haired women and sandboxes.
Jennifer wakes Needy up when she gets back from class with some greasy takeout. They sit together on Needy’s bed, shoulder to shoulder, and chew burgers while Needy’s music plays softly in the background.
“I broke up with Sarah,” Jennifer says. “She was always like, going to class, doing her homework, lame stuff like that.”
“That’s not lame,” Needy protests, primarily because, well, “I do that stuff.”
Jennifer rolls her eyes. “You don’t have a color coded life plan pinned up next to your bed. Her idea of pillow talk was discussing the LSAT.”
“The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers,” Needy quotes. The idea of Sarah and Jennifer having pillow talk makes her grind her teeth, and she takes a vicious bite out of her burger.
“What?”
“Shakespeare. Hamlet. We read it for school?”
Jennifer raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the guy who wanted to fuck his mom.”
“Sure.” Needy doesn’t want to get into Hamlet. “You deserve somebody nice. No, better than nice.”
“I know,” Jennifer says, smugly self-satisfactory. “So who was that girl you were with last night?”
Needy flushes bright red. “Her name’s Carmen. She bought me a drink.”
“More than one,” Jennifer says, voice silky smooth. “You were like, asleep in her arms when I showed up.”
“I might be a lightweight.” Needy laughs nervously.
“Getting more action than me for once,” Jennifer teases, bumping Needy’s shoulder with hers.
“She invited me for coffee tomorrow,” Needy says. She doesn’t really know why. “I’m going to go.”
Jennifer raises an eyebrow. “What if she’s a serial killer?”
“Then you know who did it,” Needy says.
Jennifer hums in agreement.
They end up sleeping together again that night, in their own warm bubble of sheets and familiar silence. Needy’s head ends up tucked in against Jennifer’s collarbone, the rhythm of Jennifer’s heartbeat lulling her to sleep as Jennifer cards gently through her hair. She’s gone when Needy wakes up.
The coffee shop Carmen wants to meet at is the one just off campus with the dyed-hair barista. It’s got a nice ambience- they host live music nights sometimes, Needy thinks. It’s mostly dark wood and worn-looking leather seats. There’s plenty of tables open, and Carmen has grabbed one near the back, a little out of the main space. Needy joins her.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Carmen asks. She’s even more radiant when Needy’s sober, less blurry, the fine contours of her face coming into clarity. Her hair is shinier in the daylight, too. “I’ll buy.”
“Oh, thanks,” Needy says, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Carmen smirks at her and goes to order, leaning definitely farther than she has to over the counter to speak to the barista. Neither of them seem to mind, what with how Carmen’s twirling her hair.
Needy takes another look around and notices Elliot from her english class, who is sitting next to some guy and holding his hand. She waves at him. He waves back at her. Joan and another girl are curled up together on a sofa and sharing a sandwich; Needy’s glad that Joan’s not still carrying a torch for Jennifer.
The bulletin board nearby has a lot of pages tacked to it, some even taped up beside, promoting somebody’s Tegan and Sara CD sale or book clubs. There’s a lot of pink triangles.
Carmen returns with two lattes, which Needy doesn’t exactly like, but hey, she didn’t pay for it.
“Thank you,” Needy says, and takes a sip. Way too sweet. She tries to hide a cringe. “So, uh, how are you?”
“Great,” Carmen says, and laughs. “I can handle my liquor.”
Needy laughs nervously. “Yeah, I don’t drink much.”
“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” Carmen says.
“Thanks, then,” Needy says. She hesitates. “I don’t really… remember much of that night.”
“What do you remember?” Carmen asks.
Crying. Homophobia confessions. Carmen smelled nice. “Enough to be embarrassed,” Needy summarizes.
“Aw, it’ll be funny in a few years,” Carmen says, in what she probably thinks is a consoling manner. Needy has been told this before, actually, and it rarely is. “Everybody’s at their worst drunk.”
“I guess,” Needy says.
“I know,” Carmen asserts. She leans over the table and lowers her voice. “Here’s what you don’t know: this is a gay coffee shop.”
Needy pauses and thinks about it. That would explain why Elliot was there, and why sometimes they were playing Melissa Etheridge over the speakers when she stopped in for a coffee break. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she finally says.
“So are you breaking out into hives yet?” Carmen raises an eyebrow.
“No, this is a good coffee place. I like it better than the one on campus, anyway,” Needy says. “They always burn the beans.”
“The gay people, Needy, not the coffee. How do the gay people make you feel,” Carmen says.
“Like… the barista?” Needy asks. “She gives me free cookies sometimes. I told you, it’s just,” she dips into a whisper, “Just Jennifer.”
“I bet she does.” Carmen sips her latte, and as she puts the cup down, her eyes widen in surprise. “Now we’re cooking with gas.”
Needy has no idea what she’s talking about, but turns around anyway, curious.
There’s Jennifer standing in the entrance way, wearing what has to be classified as the most distracting outfit in the universe. It’s a bright pink crop top and low rise jeans, wildly inappropriate for the weather. That’s never bothered Jennifer before, and Needy can see the few dark, sleek lines of her rib tattoo poking out from the crop top as she crosses the room. Towards them, of course, because clearly Needy needs, more than anything else, for Jennifer to be part of this conversation.
“Hey, what a coincidence,” Jennifer says, perching daintily on the arm of Needy’s chair.
“Is it?” Needy asks.
Jennifer smiles. “You didn’t tell me which coffee shop you were going to. This is just my favorite.”
“I’m sure it is,” Carmen mutters.
“I can’t imagine you having a problem with that,” Jennifer says. She steals Needy’s drink and makes a face. “Latte. Gross.” She puts a hand on Needy’s shoulder and says, “Needy only likes sludge coffee. It’s one of the many disgusting things about her.”
“Hey,” Needy says, playful. She pokes Jennifer. “We can’t all drink pure sugar like you.”
“I like sweet things,” Jennifer says, squeezing Needy’s shoulder.
Needy blushes. “Ha, ha.” She looks up into Jennifer’s eyes, smiling, and indulges in the warm, fuzzy feeling that overtakes her in Jennifer’s presence, heartbeat tingling in her palms and happiness bubbling up from her stomach. It’s electric and soothing at the same time- related, Needy’s always been sure, to the way that Jennifer simultaneously comforts Needy and pushes her out of her regular habits. Needy felt it when she was five and holding Jennifer’s hand for the first time, and she’s never stopped feeling it. A sure sign, she knew, of a long-lasting friendship.
Carmen clears her throat, and Needy realizes that Jennifer and her have been just looking at each other this whole time. Embarrassing.
“Needy told me you’ve been friends a while,” Carmen says.
“Since we were kids,” Jennifer says. “Inseparable.”
“Interesting.”
Jennifer nods, faux serious. “I’m sure it is.”
Carmen makes eye contact with Needy, who has no explanation for Jennifer either being here or wanting to make awkward small talk, and takes a long drink of her latte.
“What classes are you taking?” Needy blurts out, for want of a better topic.
“Business and math stuff, mostly,” Carmen says. “That’s my major.”
Needy is suddenly and acutely aware that Jennifer thinks that all business majors are sociopaths in the making, and hopes to god that she doesn’t choose to verbalize it. “How nice.”
“A regular Patrick Batman, huh.” Jennifer smirks and stands to leave. “Well, I’m going to class. We can’t all buy terrible coffee and play with daddy’s fake money.”
And with that, she flips her hair and leaves. She always did like to make an entrance and an exit, Needy thinks fondly. Kind of weird that she didn’t buy anything.
“Listen, as fun as it is to have your girlfriend fight me for your honor, watching this makes me feel kind of sad for you, so I’ll let you in on a secret again,” Carmen says, “You’re gay.”
“What,” Needy says.
“You’re gay.”
“I’m gay?” Needy exclaims, attracting the attention of the barista, who gives her a thumbs up. Needy flushes and ducks behind her hair. “I’m not gay,” she says to Carmen. “And Jennifer isn’t my girlfriend.”
“Uh, you want her to be,” Carmen says.
“I do not- I have never,” Needy insists. “I’ve dated guys.”
Carmen rolls her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it. You’re in love with her. It’s happened to every gay person since the dawn of time.”
It’s these words- you’re in love with her- that crack through and shatter Needy’s next protests, and she sits and thinks. She’s always loved Jennifer, like the familiarity of magnetic north to a compass needle, but to be in love. To be in love is to want Jennifer. Needy thinks about all the times she watched Jennifer at color guard practice while she did her homework but really stared at the way that Jennifer’s skirt flared, and how much she thought about Jennifer’s hands, the way they settled casually around the hips of Melissa and Sarah and she cupped their faces and kissed their lips-
Yes, the heady, burbling feeling deep in her chest is want. Minutes ago she had attributed it to friendship, which was, in hindsight, so foolish that she wanted to shake herself. It has been want since the very beginning, and Needy was an idiot to think her jealousy lay in anything other than how much she wanted Jennifer to pay attention to her and only her. She wanted to kiss Jennifer on her perfect lips, and hold her beautiful hands, and dedicate herself to Jennifer’s happiness, not just as a friend but as a- girlfriend, Needy supposes.
Needy’s never been a girlfriend to a girl. She might not know how to do it right.
Even with all that, there’s no way that Jennifer could want Needy. Needy is a good friend, absolutely, but she doesn’t see how she could inspire passion in Jennifer. Needy could barely get Chip to listen to her, and he was about as desperate as a teenage boy could get; Jennifer, who was the center of every room and the envy of all within it, was not going to settle for Needy. It’s not that she wasn’t good, or nice, because Needy knew she was. Needy just couldn’t pull at people the same way Jennifer did. She wasn’t enough, not for Jennifer, and at this point, if Jennifer wanted her, she would have said so.
Jennifer was nothing if not communicative about her desires, and now Needy is picturing it, the tantalizing vision of Jennifer professing her love, kissing her, sliding her hands up Needy’s sides-
No, these are not appropriate thoughts. Jennifer doesn’t love you like that, Needy scolds herself. Don’t make this weird.
“You look like I hit you with my car.” Carmen sounds very far away and very amused.
Needy snaps back into the present, blinking rapidly. “Oh, I am gay,” Needy says, and buries her head in her hands. “I wish you hadn’t told me.”
Needy stumbles out of the coffee shop promising to text Carmen later, still wrapped up in the new world she found herself in. It was like that movie that Chip made her watch, where the guy wakes up out of the robot world to the real world, and it’s all been a simulation the whole time. Needy was gay, or bisexual, and the sun shined down brighter and the air was new. Jennifer, who was uninvited but sprawled across Needy’s couch at the time regardless, spent most of the movie determining the approximate hotness of every character over most of the plot relevant scenes, so Needy can’t really remember anything else about it. Basically, though, Keanu Reeves came out of the egg, covered in goo, and then suddenly it wasn’t even 1999 anymore: that’s where Needy was.
She walks around until she finds a nice warm spot on the campus lawn and sits down, plagued by a new worry:
Does Jennifer know that Needy’s in love with her?
Yes, in a sense, because Jennifer has to know that everyone’s a little in love with her. That’s how she is. Needy specifically being in love, romantically in love?
Needy couldn’t say, so she has to keep everything not weird and completely normal, the status quo maintained and friendship kept. Having Jennifer in any capacity was better than none, or some kind of distant quasi-friendship of politeness.
Needy spends the next two days avoiding Jennifer as much as possible without actually seeming like she’s avoiding her, a delicate balance that requires studying in the library, where people keep sneaking loud food in or bothering her, and taking her meals elsewhere. She texts Carmen for tips on getting over this kind of thing, but that was no good- time, according to Carmen, is the only solution. Unfortunately, romantic agony fueled by the college cafeteria was pretty expensive, so time away from the apartment is not something Needy has as much of as she'd like.
It finally comes to a head when she gets home to Jennifer trying and failing to make spaghetti. Needy has been studying with her physics group and tries to sneak in; she enters to see Jennifer cutting up tomatoes with an unserated knife and signs of chaos. Somehow Jennifer had set fire to the uncooked sticks of spaghetti, and the burnt edges, pieces raggedly broken off, now stuck out of the pot full of water that had definitely not come to a boil- the stove isn’t even on, actually.
“Hey,” Needy says.
Jennifer whips around, knife in hand. She points it at Needy. “You said you wouldn’t be back until seven!”
Needy raises her hands in self-defense. “Is stabbing the sentence for that?”
“I wanted to do something nice.” Jennifer pouts and crosses her arms, knife still in hand. “You’re never here lately.”
“I have class,” Needy says, stepping up to remove the knife from Jennifer’s hands- she couldn’t be trusted anymore- and puts it on the counter.
“Class? All the time? Do they lock you nerds in there, now?” Jennifer asks.
“I write papers, unlike some people,” Needy says. She drops her backpack to the floor and flicks the burner on, looking over to Jennifer’s sloppy, mangled tomato remains. “Those are terrible. What were you doing?”
“Something nice. Like I said.” Jennifer picks up the knife and begins to poke at the spaghetti. “You make dinner a lot, so I thought I’d return the favor.”
“These tomatoes are going to have to go in the trash,” Needy says, doing so. She takes the knife away from Jennifer again and pulls her away from the stove. “We can save the spaghetti, probably.”
Jennifer wraps her arms around Needy and leans her head on her shoulder, a familiar embrace whenever Needy cooks. This time, though, Needy is patently aware of every inch of their bodies pressed against each other, a burning constellation of contact that has her inadvertently stiffening.
“I’m sorry.” Jennifer sounds half sorry and half petulant, about as sorry as she can actually get.
“It’s okay,” Needy says. She turns on the burner, the gentle click-click-click filling the silence between them. “I can’t leave you alone, can I?”
Jennifer hums, the vibration sending ripples of electricity down Needy’s spine. “Please, if we weren’t friends who would’ve taught you how to put on eyeliner and kept you from dressing like a cabbage patch kid? You need me.”
“I never dressed like a cabbage patch kid.”
“Your mom made you wear like, potato sack dresses, like you were the old-time cabbage patch kid from when the crops all died and money disappeared.”
“Are you thinking of the Great Depression? Because I don’t think the cabbage patch kids were time specific- do you mean American Girl dolls?” Needy asks.
“Whatever.” Jennifer pulls Needy closer to her, any pretense of space between them gone.
“You liked the way I dressed as a kid. You thought I was cute,” Needy says, heart pounding furiously. She thinks of friendship and platonic things. Puppies, or her mother, or football- Jennifer in her color guard uniform- spinning the flag and her skirt twirling up at the rallies before the game-
“You are cute.” Jennifer rocks Needy back and forth.
Needy straightens, putting a slight gap between them for her own sanity. “You’re being awful nice today, Jen.”
Jennifer doesn’t answer, just pulls Needy back to her.
“Seriously,” Needy says, turning around to face Jennifer and making eye contact for what feels like the first time in days. “Is everything okay?”
Did somebody hurt Jennifer while Needy wasn’t there? The unintended consequences of her absence make Needy’s heart hurt like somebody punched it.
Jennifer looks at her like she’s crazy. “Is everything okay?” She laughs. “Is everything okay with you?”
“I guess!”
Jennifer rolls her eyes. “God, you’ve been so fucking weird ever since you started hanging out with Carmen.”
“I- what, no,” Needy denies poorly.
“Like you’re lesbigay for each other or something,” Jennifer says, heated. Needy doesn’t even know why she's getting so worked up. “Are you and Carmen fucking so much that you can’t even make time for me?” Jennifer asks, her tone low and mean.
Needy doesn’t understand- Carmen's the problem? Did Carmen offend Jennifer somehow?
“Just tell me what the fuck is going on,” Jennifer says.
Needy is pinned down by Jennifer’s dark eyes, trapped in the kitchen under the fluorescent lighting, and Jennifer presses the sheer force of her personality down against Needy’s unrelentingly.
And Needy, like always, breaks.
“I’m actually in love with you,” Needy blurts, and then slaps her hands against her face, cursing herself.
Jennifer blinks, startled, and steps back a little. She quickly recovers and pokes Needy in the chest. “You are not.”
“What? Yes I am,” Needy argues.
“I think I would know if you were in love with me,” Jennifer says. She pokes Needy again, backing her against the kitchen counter.
“You would know.” Needy scoffs.
“I would,” Jennifer says. “Remember when I predicted Brangelina.”
“What does that have to do with anything,” Needy says.
Jennifer throws her hands up. “I’m emotionally intelligent! We took the same quiz in Cosmo, Needs, I would know if you were in love with me!”
Needy crashes their lips together, Jennifer immediately deepening the kiss and pressing Needy into their shitty countertop. They kiss like they’re going to combust, faster and faster, like if they tried hard enough they could meld into a single rapturous being.
Needy breaks from it, breathing heavy, and Jennifer kisses down her neck and back up, sweet but insistent, and gives Needy several light pecks between breaths. They’re forehead against forehead, Jennifer’s hands firmly on Needy’s waist. They feel as strong and sure as Needy thought they would.
“See, I do love you,” Needy insists.
Jennifer rubs their noses together. “Maybe I believe you.”
“Yeah?”
“I definitely love you more, though,” Jennifer teases, kissing Needy before she can argue.
They forget about the pasta.
Later, when they finally make it to bed, Needy gasps. “You were totally jealous of Carmen!”
“Winners don’t need to be jealous.” Jennifer brushes a hand through Needy’s hair, scratching at Needy’s scalp as she does. “You’re a winner too, babe.”
Needy blushes and snuggles closer, deliriously happy. Love is wonderful. Gay love is wonderful.
Thank god she's not homophobic.