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She doesn’t let herself think about it too often, but she’s never had control over her dreams. And they still won’t stop. Sometimes it’s a woman she knows but other times, it’s a face she’s never seen before, a body she hasn’t touched.
The first time Geri remembers wondering, she’d been fourteen and unable to stop watching a student in fourth form who had had the curliest hair she’d ever seen and striking dark eyes that had made her stomach clench in anticipation of the moment that had never come, when the nameless girl would notice her.
Anne’s face had screwed up a little when she’d enthusiastically asked her best friend whether she’d noticed how pretty the older girl was, and that was the last time she’d mentioned it. She didn’t have many mates and it certainly wasn’t worth losing any of them because her brain fixated differently than it probably should. It was a relief when she’d first started crushing on Matty (and Tom and eventually Stephen), a sign from God that she was normal after all. She wanted to stand out but she wanted to be liked even more.
A few years later, she’d made it back to Spain after too long away. It had been different alone. Geri had explored places she’d never gone, thought things she thought she never would again. She’d learned that you could blag things by flirting, that a touch of the jaw and a lowering of the lashes was often more effective than demanding.
One warm morning, she’d awoken, fists clenched in her sheets and with a feeling of restlessness sitting low in her stomach and the vague memory of a dream. She’d been in a club, like the one from the night before but not quite . She’d been dancing with a tall, bronzed man, his shirt half-open as he ground into her from behind. A girl had approached, and it had been impossible to take her eyes off her toned stomach and sweat-glistened breasts. “Sophia,” she’d said, introducing herself. “Come with me,” she’d invited, taking her by the hand.
“If there was a medal for daydreaming, you’d be first everytime,” Mel B says, rolling her eyes as she casually picks up her towel and puts it into the gym bag. “I know you want this as bad as I do, so it would be nice if you could be arsed to try and keep up.”
Victoria and Emma are still lingering in the studio doorway, the latter’s brow furrowed as if she can anticipate the conversation ending badly. Which is a fair enough supposition given the past two weeks.
“C’mon then, Gez.” Geri takes the hand offered, lets herself be led out of the studio. Two nights ago, the same fingers now firm on her wrist were tracing circles on her back, the younger girl curled around her in bed, breaths warm against her bare skin.
She’s never been particularly fussed about nudity, her own or anyone else’s, and finding someone who feels the same way, who doesn’t give it a second or third thought has been revelatory. Sometimes she lets the word ‘soulmate’ bounce around in her head, even lets it form on her lips when she's alone with her thoughts. During the day, they’re bandmates and friends and argue as often as they laugh. At night, Geri finds herself waiting for the sound of Mel’s feet on the stairs, pretending she doesn’t hear the door creaking open.
When Melanie’s husky voice tells her to shove over and make room, even if she’s half-asleep, she feels awake in a way she never has before.