I'll Follow (Lesbian) (GirlxGirl)

Thump.

IT'S ALMOST LIKE she's tantalizing me. She brushes past me in the hall, but when I look up she's with Aaron. She sits down across from me at the table, but only because he's right behind her. She kisses me in front of the house... But only because he's tucked away somewhere inside where he will never see our lips touch.
Either she's playing me, him, or herself.
Or, perhaps she's simply acting on her whims. That's what I've been attempting to do. Life is only gratifying if you attempt to obtain what you truly want.
Except your straight best friend.

"She can't be straight," I mutter to Jared. He glances at me over a large canvas. His eyes are all squinted up in his 'I'm concentrating' kind of way. He sets his brush down.
"Sam, shut up and just let it happen," he says slowly. It hadn't taken him long to become fed up with my constant monologue about Presley.
"But I can't! It's her move, I have no control.." I lean back on the table and feel my finger touch a cold, wet puddle of undried paint. I groan and wipe it on my already dismal jeans- ruined from countless set work parties for drama.
"Exactly. Just let it happen," he maintains. I sigh, moving towards the sink to wash off my newly purple finger. Jared begins cleaning off his brushes and wrapping up for the day.
"Okay-- but why is she giving me mixed signals?" I ask, helping him wash his brushes.
"Um, maybe because you awakened hidden lesbian feelings deep within her soul that she's spent a lifetime attempting to avert?"
I slap him lightly with a towel.
"Yeah, right," I mutter.
We exit the art room, shoulder to shoulder.
"Sam, the only one who has the answer is Presley. I am neither Presley or a lesbian so I don't exactly know why you're bothering to ask me any of these questions,"
I laugh.
"Shut up, Jared," I say, climbing into my car. He flips me off as he walks deeper into the parking lot, towards his ugly sedan. Fuck that kid.

When I get home, my parents' cars are absent. The house is dark, but I can still see the outline of Presley and Aaron making out on the couch, and their little passionate sighs echo against the walls.
I feel my eyes well up.
Fuck, when did I get so emotional?
I wipe my eyes and walk loudly past them and into the kitchen. They barely slow their pace. It feels like she's doing everything possible to shove their love under my nose. Or maybe I'm just noticing it more..

It's only about an hour and a half later when I hear them scamper into his bed from my adjacent room.
The springs squeal, and so does Presley. I close my eyes and pretend not to hear.
Why, of all people, did I have to fall in love with her?
Thump.
Why did she kiss me again if she doesn't care?
Thump.
I stuff my face into my pillow. Anything not to hear that dreadful sound of blissful glee that will soon melt into a restful night.

In the morning, the only trace of Presley is the flush in my brothers cheeks and the lipstick on his neck. He smiles at me over a bowl of cereal.
"I love her," he says, nonchalantly. So do I, Aaron, so do I.
I chuckle lightly.
"I'm glad. If you didn't love her, I wouldn't allow you to date her," I prompt. He laughs loudly.
"Well, no worries there," he says, placing his bowl in the sink.
"Right," I mutter, staring at my toast.