I'll Follow (Lesbian) (GirlxGirl)

Playing around.

IT WAS LIKE a game. A finger brush here, charged eye-contact there. Every second she had without Aaron's complete attention, she spent it frustrating me. I felt like nothing more than a fiddle played by an excellent musician, yet I still smiled back, I still yearned to touch her, to hold her, to feel as close to her as I do when we're kissing.
Sometimes, when Aaron leaves the room, she'll kiss me. Quick, trying pecks that are super-heated with the knowledge that at any second Aaron could turn the corner and it would all be over.
I think she liked the adrenaline rush.
I liked the way she looked at me. Coy, at first, and then with an indescribable love. A love that was built on years of friendship that had grown into something so much deeper-- or perhaps it was merely a game for her.
Still, she pled straight. But I don't think a straight girl could look at me with those big , doe-eyes the way Presley does.

I sit at lunch in the library now. I've been avoiding eating with Presley and Aaron because sometimes the game gets tiring. Sometimes I don't want the game. I want more.
I want what Aaron has.
I'm finishing up a math assignment when the light from the dirty fluorescents is suddenly blocked, and a familiar peach scent wafts over me. Presley grabs my hand, I cast my math journal aside and she pulls me behind a  bookcase crammed with torn Harry Potter books. Arms, arms like silk and wrap around my neck and doe-like eyes search mine.
"Why aren't you happy?" She whispers, pecking me on the cheek. I rest my hands at the curve of her waist, like a perfect S.
"I am happy," I mumble into her hair. Ever so gently she begins to scratch my scalp with her finger-nails.
"I know you're not, Sam. You can't lie to your best friend."
I pull away slightly.
"That's just it, Pres. I'm your best friend," I hold her at an arms reach. She smiles, understanding failing to dawn on her.
"Of course you are," she tries to pull closer. I resist.
"I don't want to- to just be your best friend, Pres. I know you're not gay so why the hell are we doing this?" My voice grows louder and she shushes me, blinking wildly.
"Because I love you, Sam," she whispers.
"Yeah, but I don't think you love me the same why I love you, Presley. I don't think you fully understand--"
"--What? Like I don't know what love feels like just because I'm straight?" Her face clouds over.
"No. That's not what I'm saying, I'm saying that if you're straight, then it's not possible for you to love me, Presley. Not really. Okay? So we should just--"
"Listen, Sam. Maybe telling you how I feel is easier then putting a label on myself. Maybe you don't understand how I feel about you. Has that ever crossed your mind that maybe you're not the only one struggling here? That maybe--just maybe--I'm confused as hell, too?" As her volume rises, she starts to back up. I reach out for her wrist but she turns away and books it out of the library, leaving me in the boy wizard section of the school library, alone.