TRU Life: Freshman Year (Lesbian)

It's A Wash

The next morning, Tracey caught me up with what happened with her and Cam, over breakfast. As she was relaying the details, I realized she was talking in riddles. "Why are you talking like that? Whatever it is you gotta say, just say it." I demand. She chews on her bottom lip. "I didn't tell her." she admitted, looking down at her plate.
She didn't tell? Hmm... if she didn't tell, then there's no way Cam was upset about hearing the news. So, what was she sad about?
"What happened to your 'master plan', or whatever?" I asked, biting into my hash brown. She smacks her teeth. "I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was my first real time having her all to myself. She was having a good time. I was having a great time, too... I just took the opportunity to build some kind of relationship with her. I wanted her to be able to look back on this time and realize I'm actually cool as hell and we could work out, on the relationship tip. I'm just hoping our alone time can grow into something bigger and more serious." she says. "I just didn't want the first time we really hang out to be tainted by me telling her about her cheating ass girlfriend."
"So, when do you plan to tell her?"
"The next time we go out. I'll ask her out again, and let her know, then."
"Oh, okay. Good luck, girl." I said, finishing my food off.
"Aye, I got a question for you." I tell her, wiping my hands off with the napkin.
"Shoot." she says.
"Do you think I'm a stud?" I asked, with a deadpan expression.
She looks over my outfit. Today I was wearing a plain black tee shirt with jeans. I was wearing some black Nike Air Maxes. My hair was still straightened, but it was in a low messy bun. "Yeah, are you not?"
"Not according to Araya." I said, scoffing and taking my plate to the trash. "Oh, yeah? Tell me more."

After I was finished with classes for the day, I was walking back to the dorm. My phone rings, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that KP was calling me on FaceTime. "Hey, you." I greet. "Hey. Just wanted to check in with you, it's been a few days. What's up?" I smile. "Oh, not much. Been trying my hardest to work on that damn writing assignment. I've also been going through a bit of an identity crisis." I admit.
She giggles. "Whatchu mean?" she asks. "Don't laugh, okay?" I ask. Immediately she snickers. "I'm sorry. Go 'head." she says.  I roll my eyes. "Do you think I'm a stud?" I ask her.
She whistles in response. "That's kind of a hard question. I ask myself that every time I look at you. Some days I think you give regular ol' tomboy, and some days I would probably call you a soft stud. You look good enough to eat, either way." she replies, winking. "What the fuck, why does no one believe I'm a stud? Of everybody I asked, only one said yes. Nobody said no, but most are like saying I'm an in-between type."
"Don't tell me you've been going around asking people."
"Okay, I won't, then." I say.
"That is crazy as hell." she said, giggling. "Ooh, maybe that can be your story premise. It'll be like how that baby chick asked every animal in existence if they were his mom. Don't have your character asking everybody if she's a stud, though. I don't think the heteros could take it." she warns. I crack up. "Hey, that's a great idea. I think that's what I'ma do." I really start thinking about it in my head. "Maybe the main character is, like, mean, but doesn't know it. Then when she keeps hearing it, she asks her friends and they give her damn near the same answer. KP, you are a frigging lifesaver! Thank you." I say. She smiles. "I'm glad I could help. I can't wait to hear more about it." she says. "I can't wait til it's done, it's gon' be fire!" I say. After a few seconds of staring at each other with equally wide smiles, and probably equally wild thoughts, she tells me it's time for her to go to class and verifies she'll be available for our study session on Monday. As we hang up, I rush to my room so I could get somewhere and write these ideas down.

Once I finish brainstorming my ideas, Cam had asked me if I would help her bleach her hair. Apparently she was sick of the burgundy ombré situation, which was a result of her growing out the previous bleach job she had. On top of that, her color was fading. I thought she was crazy as hell for trusting me with such a big job. But I figured it would be something fun to do. I had dyed Ti's hair before, but bleaching is a whole 'nother beast. Luckily I had caught a few YouTube videos about it, so for the most part I knew what to do.

She takes her jacket and shirt off, revealing a white wifebeater. Then, she tells me she would be ready for me in just a minute. I sat my notebook down and tied my hair back up. I had let it down earlier 'cause I was feeling a bit of a headache coming on. I didn't wanna risk the shit getting all on my hair just in case it went as awry as I expect it to.

As she starts mixing the bleach powder and the developer, we start talking about our stories. I walk over to where she was sitting and look at her reflection in the mirror. I could see that the bleach mixture was fizzing up in the bowl, and she stopped stirring it. "What do you mean, you haven't started writing it, yet?" she asked. I roll my eyes at her reflection. "I told you, I'm not a writer. I lowkey just came up with my story today. Well, KP helped, but yeah."
She tugs at her ponytail holder, and finally lets her waterfall of hair unfurl. I run my hands through it, trying to make sure it was free of tangles. At the same time, I explained how I had been going around, asking people if they thought I was a stud. She chuckles. "I still can't believe you went around asking people that."
"Chile, KP said the same thing, and then brought up that story where the lil chicken ran around asking everybody was they his mama. So I'm gonna model it after that story. My character is mean, but she only sees herself as being honest. Then she starts feeling a way when somebody she cares about, calls her mean. So then she asks everybody what they think... and they all say she's mean. So then she tries to fix it." Cam nods her head in approval. "That's good. So, what did everybody say to you?"
"Can't nobody except Tracey make up their damn mind. She's the only one that said 'yes'."
"Speaking of Tracey, she asked to hang out with me again sometime next week." she says, with a bit of hesitance in her voice.
I look at her reflection, to be met with an unsure expression as she stared at mine. The same one that she wore when she got back from the Adventure Park not too long ago.
"You gon' go?" I ask, trying my best to hold back my smile. I think Cam is nervous to be around her! Aw, my nigga was catching butterflies.
"I'ma go. I gotta talk to her." she says. I could no longer contain my smile. "Ahhhh, I cant wait!" I exclaim. "When y'all come back, I want all the details. From both of y'all." She giggles. "I don't know 'bout all that." she replies. "Might as well, 'cause Trae gon' tell me anywaaaay." I taunt.

She chuckles. "So...you gon' actually do my hair, or did you just wanna pull on it?" she said, smirking. She was clearly trying to change the subject. I softly hit her upside the head. "Give me the gloves." I demand. She passed them to me, and I realize she never actually gave me an answer.
"So, what do you think?" I ask, putting the gloves on.
"About what?"
"You never answered me when I asked you if you thought I was a stud. I need an answer, or I might die of curiosity." I say, reaching for the tub of developer, and the brush that goes along with it. She laughs. "I ain't answer it 'cause I thought it was a stupid question." she admits. I furrow my eyebrows. "Did you just say that to me, when your hair's life in my hands right now?" I ask.
"I'm sorry, you know I love you. I'd never say anything to hurt your feelings on purpose, but all that label stuff is dumb to me."
I smack my teeth as I start putting some developer right above the previously bleached section. "I don't like labels. But if I must use them, it's for shit that has strict rules to it. I don't use 'em for people. Nobody can even collectively decide what the fuck a stud is." she explains.
"That's true, but most people have a general idea— a girl in guy's clothes."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "I thought that's what a tomboy was. What's the difference between a tomboy and a stud?" she asks.
"They attach the gay label to the stud label." I respond.
"They do that with 'tomboy', too."
"Touché." I say.
"People take one look at you and label you, and it sticks. As soon as you do something that contradicts that label, all of a sudden they have something to say. It's weird." she vents.
"Very valid point." I say, picking up another section to put the developer on. "I like to know what I'm dealing with though, so I don't mind them."
She chuckles wryly. "Those labels do not let you know what you're dealing with. Believe me, I know." she said. "If I were gonna follow the trend of labeling people, I wouldn't come to a conclusion solely off of the clothes they're wearing. Demeanor is what I pay attention to. It's a big part of one's personality. That's not something that changes too often, so you'd probably make a more accurate decision based on that."
I took all that in. She was spitting facts.

"So, based on my demeanor, am I a stud?"