Dreamers (Lesbian Short Stories)

Awake

Looking at her I realized there was no chance of my dreams coming true. The fact was that while we went to the same high school, we came from different worlds. One of us was rich, popular, privileged, and generally spoiled. Able to obtain anything except the one real thing desired.

The other was pretty and smart but shy and easily taken advantage of, therefore popular mostly with the dickholes and perverts. Not to mention poor and struggling just to make it through the year.

One of us was madly in love with the other who could never love her back. and while such unrequited love makes a great story, in real life.... it sucked ass.

................................................................

"Candice, snap out of it would you?" Tyler's voice shook me out of my daydream's of her, and though secretly annoyed at the interruption, I smiled apologetically at my friend. "Sorry, what?" I ask, though I could care less.

Usually this is how our insipid conversations go, her blathering on about something or other, and me pretending to give a damn and paying lip service in order to maintain my status as "popular." And Taylor is just one among a large throng of cheerleaders, club heads, and in general rich elitist teenagers I am surrounded by everyday.

"Well I was just saying how Chelsea told me in math the other day that she heard from Brenda that..." I tune her out once again. The gossip is the worst. Despite my views on my "popular" "friends", I generally liked people and liked thinking the best of them as well, so the kind of lies or exaggerated slander that was constantly spread around in high school irritated me.

So instead I stared across at her, at her dark hair that swept just past her shoulders, the purple tints in spots from when she had dyed it last spring, the way one unruly strand always fell back over her right eye. Her eyes that were a shocking shade of blue for hair as dark as hers, and combined with her pointed ears and angular nose gave her a faerie-like quality, really she seemed more like an ethereal being than a teenage girl.

Then of course there were her lips, plump and a soft pink naturally, though darkened a bit by her constant biting of them, a nervous habit I had noticed. All of this with a petit frame and soft, pale complexion had led to hours of my time spent just staring at her as I was now, or of me fantasizing about her when I couldn't see her.

"...So anyway then she told me that Torin, you know, Torin Price, that weird quiet girl in our English class, well Chelsea said that she was the one she caught with Michael at Toby's party." Tyler stops to catch her breath, but unlike before she has my attention, and I need to know more even though part of me doesn't want to.

"What do you mean, 'with' Michael?" I ask, and Tyler looks at me sympathetically. Michael once showed an interest in me, and asked me to homecoming, but I always rejected him. Tyler probably thinks I'm regretting that decision now, but Michaels not the reason I'm curious, and borderline upset.

"I mean, they were hooking up. You know," she drops her voice down into a whisper, "screwing like rabbits." Then she starts to giggle a little bit, as if the thought is just too hilarious for her. Meanwhile my heart drops. It's not exactly news, after all there have always been rumors and most of Torin's friends are of the male species. But some part of me had always hoped... well it didn't matter, clearly I was wrong.

"What a slut," I say, and the words feel good but only serve to make my heart hurt more. I sigh. "I'm going to use the restroom," I excuse myself, and decline the chorus of offers to go with me I receive from the table. Girls. Is it really necessary that we travel everywhere as a pack?

I glide out of the lunchroom, attracting stares and envious glances in my almost too short cheerleading skirt and cute kitten heels that make it seem classy while still managing to accentuate my calves nicely. With long blond hair, soft, symmetrical features, and hazel eyes, I guess I'm pretty. It doesn't hurt that I keep in shape. But the only thing my looks have done for me so far is gain me a swarm if pesky male admirers who never leave me alone, and cemented the tomb of popularity I live in. I don't think of them that much.