Dahlia is just coming to terms with her sexuality when Billie, the girl who stares too much and keeps popping up everywhere, comes to her school.
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{WARNING: This story contains foul language, mentions of sex, violence, mentions...
{edit: I wrote that last night and now we're up to 104k. Y'all wildin I love you so much}
I love y'all. Thanks so much for reading. I—ugh I hate myself bc this is gonna sound dramatic but
I used to write shit and dream of getting 10k reads or just 1k reads. I love writing so much and I'd do it whether ppl were actually reading or not but u have no idea how much it means and how amazing it feels to know that ppl are legit enjoying my writing. I've always been iffy about showing my work because u know if somebody doesn't like it then that means they don't like something that IIII created from MYYY mind and I hate the thought of that. Like I get not everybody will like my shit but I just mean I was always scared to share my stories because it's pretty terrifying to think about ppl judging ur shit u know? But u guys really seem to be enjoying and that makes me feel amazing!
Reading a long ass book like this takes hella time and energy especially cause of all the drama and tea happenin rn ☠️☠️☠️ but if you've been reading from the beginning and you've gotten to this chapter, thank u so much. Means everything to me.
Now lemme stop acting like Madonna and get on with the chapter. Ily! 🖤
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**Three weeks later** **March 31st**
Dahlia's outfit:
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Dahlia's POV ************
"You know, I don't know much about lesbianism, but I do know that after spending fifteen years with your grandpa and then twenty with my second ex-husband, Robert, I'd be willing to give it a try." Grandma brought her cigarette back up to her lips after speaking and gestured for me to hand her another finger sandwich. The sixth one in five minutes.
She glanced around for a few seconds before gesturing for me to lean closer to her, and I did. "I heard you lesbians are having better sex anyway. I think all women should be lesbians. Expecting a man who doesn't know how to fix his own sandwich, sew, or tell the difference between mint and teal to know how to please you is like expecting a damn dog to know how to use its thumbs. You see the problem there, don't you?"
