Sang Sorenson, for all that she'd been warned away from men, had never been warned away from women.
So girls had never felt that scary to her. Not when they braided flowers into her hair, hugged from behind as a hello, held her hand in the dark. Not...
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Sang Sorenson, for all that she'd been warned away from men, (men will use you, bend you, break you, try to unmake you )had never been warned away from women.
It's true that her mother terrified her, shook her to her core and made her heart bleed as much as her body. But girls had never felt that scary to her. Not when they braided flowers into her hair, hugged from behind as a hello, held her hand in the dark. Not when they shared their lipgloss by way of pressing their lips to hers.
No, girls were soft and gentle and kind. Only the real mean ones were meant to be feared, every other girl was made of sweetness, even those with rough edges. (Well, that's a generalisation based on the girls Sang has known, seen through her rose tinted glasses that only worked on pretty girls, but still.)
As she got older, Sang learned that not all boys were bad. She even kissed one; James Elliot, skin a warm umber and eyes a stunning amber, with broad hands that had cupped her cheek gently, and with lips that guided her own.
Yet when Dakota Lee wraps her up in a towel, exchanges her soaked hoodie for a green flannel button-up and tucks her into her bed below a Bi flag... it's the most bluntly non-heterosexual thing Sang had experienced since Amanda Byers let her taste her strawberry chapstick under the bleachers.
Then suddenly, she's got 9 girls giving her all of their attention, taking up as much time in her day as possible.
If they were men, she would've been scared. But, Sang Sorenson had never been warned away from women. Not once.
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