She is Homophobic || FreenBecky [Completed]

Chapter 19

I knew it. There's a big event happening, and that's why we all have to get to class early. Later in the afternoon, there's going to be a party for the fourth-year students.

The professor invited Freen and me, but I turned down the invitation. I told them my feet were still healing, even though I could walk on my own now.

"Why didn't you get a dress? You were going to the party, right? Even Satan will be there," I said, reading my book.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Freen pout and flop down next to me. She peeked at the novel I was reading and rolled her eyes at the case the main character needed to solve.

"Seriously? You're staying in to read that instead of having fun?" Freen sulked, crossing her arms.

"I chose tranquility," I shot back. "I didn't ask you to stay. Why not find a dress and enjoy the party? It's almost evening."

"But I don't want to leave you alone," she sighed.

"I'm fine," I assured her, but she shook her head.

I rolled my eyes and let her do as she pleased. I was done trying to convince her. She's an adult; she can make her own decisions.

Time passed, and Freen finally made up her mind. She left the dorm room, granting me a peaceful hour.

I thought she'd stay there, but I was surprised when she came back carrying two bottles of vodka.

"What the heck? Are you drinking tonight?" I asked, sitting up on the bed. "Keep that away, Chankimha. I don't want to smell like alcohol."

"Why? It's for us. I swiped these from the party. Let's not kill the vibe. Come on," Freen said, grabbing two glasses and motioning for me to sit on the floor with her, which I did eventually.

"I really don't like this idea," I protested, rolling my eyes.

"But I like it when you're not into something," she grinned, pouring vodka into my glass. "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?" I inquired.

"I ask you a question, and every time you can't answer, you take a drink. Deal?" she said, clearly excited.

I wasn't a fan of the idea. I hardly even knew myself, so how could I answer her questions?

"You first," Freen said, flashing a smile.

"Are you dating someone?" I asked.

Freen giggled and took a sip of vodka, causing my eyes to roll. I bet she'd even drink for an obvious answer.

The game continued, and I had three drinks. She asked about my dream guy, why I worked despite having successful parents, and even a mind-bending question about who created the creator of the universe.

Pretty crazy, right?

"You're getting tipsy," I told her, trying to hide the bottles behind me. One was empty, and the other was a quarter full.

"Nah, I still have more questions!" Freen declared in her tipsy state, prompting me to give her a glare.

"Then ask away," I prompted.

Despite her getting no useful information from my answers, Freen persisted. She sighed after a while, gazing at me with droopy eyes before breaking into a slow smile.

What was she up to? She seemed really drunk. She should get some rest.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" she asked.

I shook my head and tried to lift her so I could tuck her into bed. However, she pushed me away.

"Another one," she mumbled, making a "1" sign with her hand. "Have you had your first kiss?"

I shook my head once more.

"So, no one would mind if something happened between us, right?" she pondered.

My eyes widened, and I gently moved away. Geez, the alcohol was really messing with her.

"You're being ridiculous, Freen," I scolded.

"Just kidding... hic..." Freen hiccupped, and I fetched her some water to drink.

I rubbed her back gently in case she felt nauseous, but she didn't. Instead, she held my other hand and looked at me with those same drowsy eyes.

Her gaze was intriguing, and I felt myself getting lost in it. If she were my girlfriend, I might have kissed her right then.

Freen's lips twitched as our eyes locked. She started moving closer, bit by bit.

"Stop, Freen. You're drunk," I said in my raspy voice.

Freen chuckled, shaking her head slowly while keeping her eyes on my lips. "I'm not, Rebecca Patricia Armstrong. I'm perfectly sober," she declared, cupping my cheeks.

"What do you want to do? Should we get some sleep?" I tried to change the subject, but she shook her head.

Freen's lips curled into a lazy smile as her gaze stayed fixed on me. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions, and there was a playful glint in her eyes. "You know, Becky," she began, her words slightly slurred, "I've always wondered..."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Wondered about what?"

Freen's gaze remained locked on me, a hint of vulnerability shining through the alcohol haze. "What it's like," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "to kiss someone of the same gender."

My heart skipped a beat, taken aback by her unexpected confession. I knew Freen had struggled with her feelings, battling against her own thoughts. Yet, here she was, with sincerity in her eyes, despite the alcohol's influence.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Freen," I replied gently, torn between understanding and caution.

Freen leaned closer, her lips brushing against my cheek as she murmured, "What if I just... find out for myself?"

A shiver ran down my spine at the touch of her lips. It was a fleeting caress, a hint of a kiss, yet it sent a jolt through me. In that moment, warmth spread through me, an unexpected connection forming.

"Freen..." My voice wavered, a mix of confusion and realization of the emotions in play.

Before I could say more, Freen's lips met mine in a tender, uncertain kiss. Time seemed to slow as our lips connected, the world fading away. Her lips were surprisingly soft, a faint taste of vodka adding a bittersweet edge. My initial resistance melted, and I found myself responding, hesitating yet curious.

As the kiss deepened, I sensed Freen's vulnerability and longing, as if the barriers she'd erected were crumbling in this intimate exchange. Amidst this emotional whirlwind, I understood it was complicated territory. Gently, I pulled back, heart racing, meeting her gaze.

"Freen, you're drunk," I whispered, concern and tenderness blending in my voice. "Let's get you to bed."

Freen's eyelids drooped, her gaze softening as she sleepily nodded. I carefully helped her lie down on the bed, tucking a blanket around her.

Her eyes fluttered closed, a faint smile gracing her lips, the memory of our shared moment lingering.

Sitting by her side, I brushed her hair away from her forehead, watching her sleep with a mix of emotions. The night stretched on, and I wondered if she'd remember our kiss in the morning and what it could mean for the complex emotions between us.

The room was quiet, only the gentle rhythm of Freen's breath filling the air. Leaning against the headboard, I let my thoughts wander, captivated by the beauty and uncertainty of that stolen kiss.

Why did I feel this way? It wasn't supposed to be like this.