Ocean Blue | gxg ✓

chapter sixteen

alyssa

I didn't want to go to work yesterday. I figured that level of want was as bad as it could possibly get, but I have been proven wrong.

Today is just so much worse.

Tanner dropped me off after a very pancake-y breakfast, and it was all fine, until he told me that next time, I need to call him. I decided to not respond, instead electing to shut the truck door in his face and wave goodbye till he peeled Dusty Springfield the Van away from the curb of the pool.

A few girls gave me fairly weird looks as they walked in, which were easily ignorable but nerve wracking as hell. It's probably some West Coast girl thing. Probably. Definitely not that Elliot mentioned anything of what happened yesterday to them. Nope. Not. A. Possibility.

I walk straight to the stand, which is empty, because of course my heart can't maintain a normal rate ever. Of. Course.

I drop my bag behind the counter just like yesterday, then turn to nonchalantly lean against the counter. The pool looks pretty shoddy after the storm yesterday. There are leaves strewn about the pool, and a branch has fallen over one of the ten-foot fences that line the perimeter of the facility. A few toned lifeguard girls are already on it, three of them all together bending down and preparing to chuck it over.

I just watch them for a few moments, hating how I can't draw my eyes away from their flexed thighs, their flexed arms. It's so stupid. So fucking gay.

"Hey," comes a voice from my side. I avert my gaze from the hot branch girls—a girl with frizzy-ish blonde hair and dark, sculpted brows smirk-grins at me, flashing pearly gap teeth. "You're El's new coworker, aren't you?"

"Oh." El. Elliot. That girl. Person. Yes. "I am."

"Oh, hi! I'm Taf. It's so nice to meet you!" She sticks her hand out to me, with its lilac acrylic nails and its gold infinity ring.

I take it. Her grip is firm and warm. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Alyssa."

A girl with dark hair sneaks up behind Taf and wraps her arms around her waist, chin plopped on her shoulder. Taf shrieks and laughs, hands flying to the girl's arms. I note a matching ring in silver. "Brookie, stop!"

"Never," grumbles Brookie against her neck, grinning. It's cute. They're cute. And they make my heart ache.

Brookie removes her arms from Taf, but she continues to lean against her, like she's some kind of chin prop. "This is Alyssa," says Taf, smiling at me with gorgeous blue eyes. "She's Elliot's coworker."

"Oh, you're with the dyke," Brookie jokes, and I manage a polite chuckle. They seem pleased by this—like, oh, she laughed at our queer joke! This is one of those moments I hope I'm giving off suitably queer vibes; I've always straight-passed really hard, so the chance I've just offended them instead of getting in on their joke is probably pretty high. Then again, these two seem to be super femme too—maybe their gaydars are sharpened, capable of spotting any femme queer from a mile away.

Or something.

"Be nice," tuts Taf. "So, Alyssa, are you a freshman?"

Oh gosh, not again. This happened all the time back in Minnesota, even in a small town where I had known everyone for years. "I'm actually a junior."

"Us too!" she says, hopping up and down excitedly. "Oh my gosh, that's so rad! You're new to town, then?"

"Yes."

The proceeding conversation ends up being a long interview of incredibly basic questions I don't think actually have anything to do with who I am as a human being, but I guess I'd rather them ask me the most mundane of crap than to ignore me.