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"Aren't we a bit old for spin the bottle?" Connie mumbled into the beer bottle, downing the drink at the thought.
Sonny chuckled under his breath, grabbing the now-empty bottle from her hand. "And you call me the stick-in-the-mud?"
Connie opened her mouth in retort, but Sonny cut it off with a teasing finger waggle. "You go sit your ass down. Imma get you another drink to drown your sorrows."
Connie's eyes followed his finger, now pointing at the crowd of intoxicated teens gathering around the stained shag rug that sat in the middle of the room. Her mouth closed into a thin lip to prevent an annoyed huff from escaping, arms crossed as she surveyed the faces of her potential suitors. Boys and girls alike hung off each other, eager to drunkenly kiss. Nerves began to knot in her stomach; yes, she had kissed people before, but never for a crowd of voyeurs.
It was only when Connie's worried eyes met Julie's that the knots loosened. Her grey eyes twinkled when Danny leant forward to whisper in her ear, never breaking eye contact, even when she pushed at his chest with a giggle. Now with her full attention on Connie, her tanned hand raised and ushered the redhead towards the group. She feigned consideration with a scrunched face before shaking her head. Unswayed, Julie's lower lip pushed against her top as she tilted her head, eyes filled with pleas. Connie always prided herself on her stubbornness, but tonight she lowered her head with a defeated sigh, a warmth blooming in her cheeks as she's reminded how easily she crumbles under Julie's gaze. Those damn puppy eyes.
Julie's eyes continued to burn into Connie's figure as she shuffled her way to the circle, feet dragging in reluctance as she scoped out a point of entry. She knelt between two girls she recognised from her biology lectures before a large shadow loomed over her to place a glass bottle in the centre of the group. Everyone perked up and quietened down as the shadow declared the beginning of the game. Connie stared as the bottle glimmered in the low light of the basement, turning into a blur as it chose its victim. Distracted by a loose thread on her trousers, the shrill cheers sounded so far away as she shrank into her memories.
As a child, most afternoons were spent at her neighbour's house while her parents finished up the day's work on their farm; homework at the dining table before they were allowed to run around until her parents called for dinner. George was in the same grade, so their parents thought they'd make good friends, sometimes poking at the potential for more. They were right—almost. She spent hours playing with George until their knees were slick with mud and their hair was tangled in knots, with George's older sister keeping watch from the porch as she flicked through a book. Connie never admitted it to anyone, but her favourite moments weren't with George at all but rather with his sister, Jane; she buzzed whenever she would help with a troublesome math problem or gossip with her as she waited for her parents. She had a smile that could light up a room and a voice that could melt the hearts of the wicked. Jane was everything Connie wanted to be. Jane was everything Connie wanted.
Subconsciously, she began spending more time at their house, coming over on weekends, staying over for dinner. More time with George meant more fleeting moments with Jane. Until, one night, Jane brought a boy over for dinner. An unfamiliar twist burrowed in Connie's chest as they shared a kiss before sitting down to eat. His mother lightly scolded George as he gagged at the display of affection before exposing his newfound feelings to the table. Something about a certain redhead making his heart feel funny. Connie was oblivious to the conversation unraveling in front of her, one hand indenting her cheek as the other pushed around the peas on her plate; she was scouring her brain as to why she didn't feel so good, but she couldn't find the reason. She wanted to go home.
The flickering light of the porch greeted her farewell as she left that night, giggles from the open window souring her already bad mood. George stood by the front door, admiring Connie as she picked up her bike from the floor and turned back to wave. Hearing the taunting voice of his mother in his head, he impulsively ran towards her and pushed his lips against hers. Connie stood frozen with confusion and embarrassment. Teeth clashed against her bottom lip as panic bubbled in her gut. She tried her best not to scrunch up her nose as she felt his warm breath on her nose. Without thought, her clenched hands moved to his chest to push him away. She refused to meet his eye as she got on her bike and pedalled away, leaving George in the glimmering glow of his porch. Her mind raced as she rubbed the sleeve of her shirt against her lips until they were raw. Her first kiss disappeared into the horizon behind her. She never went back.
Homosexuality was never a subject of conversation in her household—that is, until it became legalised in Illinois. She never understood why her mother spat in disgust at the news. It's not proper. Connie instinctually scoffed at the word. Proper. Connie, you can't wear trousers to church; it's not proper. Connie, you can't spend the evenings playing outside anymore; it's not proper. Connie, you can't get a job in science; it's not proper. Connie was never proper enough for her. The idea of being a housewife made her gag. The idea of being with a man made her gag. She thought her kiss with George was due to the childish 'cooties' mentality, but as she grew, her friends started to date and spoke in awe about how magical the feeling felt. She knew she wasn't like them. She wished she was—prayed every night until she was 14. A new couple moved in down the way at 14; that's when she knew this life was something she could obtain. It's when she knew she could be different. But, based on the town's reaction to difference, she knew that her life couldn't be found in Paris, Illinois.
Her second kiss confirmed her suspicions. Bradley, the boy who asked her to prom. She'd considered not going to prom until her mother harped on about it every mealtime. After numerous arguments, she bought the first dress she saw and said yes to the first guy who asked. One night of torture before her inevitable freedom. Standing in the doorway, feeling like a dress-up doll, she forced a smile on her face as Bradley's arm tentatively hovered above her waist. A flash from the camera blinded her as her mother cooed behind the camera. My pretty girl growing up to be a proper lady. The smile on Connie's face melted into a grimace at the word. Why don't you give us a kiss? A familiar panic bubbled in her gut. Connie's eyes flickered to Bradley's as she held her breath, the grimace never leaving her face. Bradley complied, giving a quick peck to the corner of her mouth as another flash of white captured the moment. The moment Connie decided she never wanted to kiss a boy again.
The thought of kissing some random college boy in a dingy basement caused her heart to drum against her chest. The thought of kissing some random college girl in a dingy basement made it drum harder. Would they laugh and jeer? Would they know? Connie wasn't ready to find out. She wiped her clammy hands against her trousers to try and soothe herself, eyes jumping from person to person as if someone were listening to her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she watched the smoke dance around the light fixture above them. Unaware, a sea of eyes turned to stare at her tense form. A nudge to her shoulder brought her eyes to the bottle, staring down the barrel of the gun. The chosen victim.
Like a deer in headlights, Connie's eye caught Julie's; two energies with complementary polarities attracted to each other, bound by space and time to be brought together. Their magnetic field repelled the rest of the world, merely observers on the outside. Resistance was futile. Julie crawled through the circle towards her prey. Hypnotised by the way her beaded necklace swung back-and-forth, Connie began drowning in the sea of Julie, stormy eyes, now inches from her own.
She had felt the warmth of Julie's hand on her skin before—on her back when guided through a crowd, on her hand when passed a pencil, on her arm when Julie laughed so hard she needed to hold on to something. On her thigh, however, the hand felt heavy, burning a hole into the fabric of her trousers. Her other hand brushed a stray hair to reveal her face, gently cupping her chin. The gesture left a trail of sparks along her face, the warmth spreading across her cheeks. Julie's circling thumb gently soothed the burn, eyes flicking down to slightly chapped lips. Connie rolled her tongue over the cracks, insecurity stirring as the light reflected off Julie's glossed ones. Green met grey once again. A stand-off between friends.
For the first time, Connie's brain felt empty. The only thing she could think of was Julie—the smell of her coconut moisturiser, the feeling of her strong fingers running through her hair, the taste of her honey lip-gloss. Her brain couldn't catch up to the feeling. Julie clouded her mind, like the smoke swirling above, suffocating her until she dizzied. Connie gasped for a breath she didn't know she needed, grasping the brunette's cradling wrist to ground herself. Julie's warm breath against hers was a lifeline, the cogs in her brain springing into action as the air entered her lungs. She started kissing back. It was as natural as breathing. It felt proper.
Julie's hand laced deeper into Connie's hair, threads of red entangled between her fingers. She pulled the girl closer as their tongues brushed together, causing Connie to raise from her numbed ankles in ecstasy. Eyes flutter closed as a soft whimper gets swallowed by Julie, her mouth curling at the sound for her ears only. Before she could let out another sound, Julie pulled away, wiping Connie's lips with her thumb. All Connie could do was stare with a dumbfounded glaze in her eyes as their chests rose and fell in harmony. Julie lingers for a moment longer, memorising the sight of Connie's swollen lips complementing the blush on her cheeks. The sound of Julie's soft laugh causes a smile to creep onto Connie's face. A solemn oath between friends.
Noise from the crowd did nothing to lessen the feeling of pride in Connie's chest, embarrassment turning into a mere memory. Ginger strands fell in her face as she tried to hide her growing smile. Julie's eyes never left her as she returned to her place in the circle, only breaking contact when another person leant forward to continue the game. Connie peered up between her eyelashes to watch Julie retreat, the girl casually leaning back against Danny as if she hadn't just changed Connie's life. Everyone moved on without a second thought, cheering as the bottle chose its next victim. The weight on her shoulder lessened. Breathing felt easier. She may not have gotten the girl, but she got what she needed. Maybe she would be okay.
A sudden sensation of cool condensation on her arm ruined the moment, shocking her system as she jumped at the intrusion. Sonny had returned with her sorrow-drowning drink, but she no longer had any sorrows to drown.
"Did I miss anything?" Sonny inquires, raising a knowing eyebrow at Connie's warm cheeks and glazed eyes.
Connie simply shakes her head, grabbing the bottle to take a sip, the coolness calming her singing fingers. Sonny continued to analyse her as she refused to meet his eye, turning her head away from the inspection. Something glistening in the dim glow caught his eye.
"You have a lil something..." Sonny trailed off with a smirk, reaching to wipe the sticky substance from the corner of Connie's mouth.
Connie swiped at his hand, begrudgingly removing the remnants of the kiss herself. Her cool fingers lingered, electricity buzzing between the tips and her tingling lips. Sonny chuckled knowingly at the sight, resulting in a jab to the ribs.
"Shut it, Williams."