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Donna always let Lola sleep in her bed whenever she spent the night. It was something she would’ve done for anyone else. She didn’t want anyone sleeping out on the couch, or heaven forbid the floor. Besides, sleeping with someone else beside her didn’t make her uncomfortable at all, even if they were just friends. It wasn’t anything out of the normal for her to do with someone she was close to.
Lola felt somewhere outside of normal. Donna wouldn’t feel any change in the atmosphere with others around, but Lola would always find some way to make her feel oddly nervous. She would feel a gravitational force, the random urge to wrap her arms around her waist. To cuddle her, to catch a glimpse of the scent of rose perfume exuding off of her.
She couldn’t bear the feeling that was buried deep under the rest of her emotions. She surely wouldn’t judge anyone else if they were to love someone the way she loved Lola. Yet she couldn’t help but judge herself for the way her heart seemed to drag her towards it.
For that, she kept her distance—or tried to.
A Ritchie Valens record played softly in the background as Lola finished off Donna’s braid, the two sitting atop her floral-printed duvet. A vanilla candle was lit on her beside, the only light aside from her lamp in the dark of night. A teddy bear adorned with a blue ribbon, gifted by her boyfriend, Brady, watched them with beady eyes.
Donna’s heart was beating a little faster than usual, listening to Lola’s soft humming. They had been keeping up conversation all night—mostly a result of Donna’s habit of constantly trailing off into several different subjects while talking—but they had settled into comfortable silence. Too loud for Donna’s mind. She fiddled with her hands in her lap, with Lola’s breathing too close behind her.
“There,” Lola said, her voice low. She tied the back of her hair with a small, pink ribbon, letting it fall onto Donna’s back.
“Do you think we should go to bed?” Donna asked, drowsy eyes glancing towards the clock reading 11 PM. “It’s a little late.”
“Mhm, I’m getting pretty tired myself,” Lola agreed. Donna shifted herself underneath the covers without another word, her newly done braid against the pillow. Lola slipped underneath next to her, lying on her side.
Donna reached over to her bedside to turn off her lamp, blowing out the candle alone with it. She didn’t bother getting up to remove the record. The music was the only thing willing to fill the silence. She pulled the teddy bear close to her chest, giving her something to hold onto to stifle her thoughts—to remind her what she already had.
She liked Brady. Back in middle school, he was everything every girl ever wanted. She had endured so much, all the talk behind her back, all the nasty rumors over a boy, just for him. But now, every kiss left what felt like an empty pit in her gut. Not the kind other girls described where they would get butterflies in their stomachs, but a strike of guilt. Every gesture of affection was another reminder of her split mind, and what she pushed away.
Clinging onto the bear rather than her feelings was easier. It gave her a replacement, something that couldn’t tell what was wrong with her and would never know.
As Donna was about to turn to say goodnight, Lola spoke before her.
“You know, I’ve never really had a best friend before you,” she muttered, almost sheepishly, into the darkness of the room.
Donna blinked at the sudden sentiment, her body gone stiff.
“That’s surprising. You’re probably one of the kindest people I’ve ever met,” she smiled, earnestly. Lola’s stories of her old school were always shocking to her. How she always drifted around the same people, how she never seemed to find the right friends. How taking care of animals was more comforting than trying to reach out to somebody else. Donna didn’t know how no one else could see what she saw in her.
Lola giggled. Donna always noticed whenever she grinned, a small dimple would appear beside it. “Oh, c’mon, don’t flatter me,” she mused quietly.
“I’m serious. Anyone would want to be your friend.” Her tone had dropped down to a low, sentimental murmur, afraid of what might spill out if she wasn’t careful.
Lola’s grin practically lit up the pitch-black room. Donna could still make out her features. She had them nearly memorized, after all.
There was a hard pause in the room before Lola spoke again. Donna could sense a shift in the air as her heart seemed to pump faster and faster against her ribs.
“I think that if you were a boy, you’d be the perfect match for me. I always dreamed of something out of a romance movie. Ben’s very sweet, of course, but… you’re like my other half that I’ve been searching for.”
It was as if those words had caused all the tension in the word to crumble. Donna’s mouth hung open, slightly parted.
The perfect match. She couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement in her chest as if a firework had gone off inside of it. Maybe Lola felt the same. Maybe Donna didn’t have to feel worried sick over these unnatural feelings. Moreover, if Lola could’ve felt the same, maybe she would’ve accepted them with open arms.
Lola’s eyes widened. Not a look of love—the way Donna wished it was—but one of fear.
“I- I’m sorry, I don’t mean that in a rude way, towards Ben or you or— oh my God—“ Lola stammered, arms folding over herself like a protective shield.
“No, no, Lola, it’s alright,” Donna reached over, her hand lightly resting on Lola’s shoulder. She was trying her best to think of how she could reassure her, but Donna’s mind was spinning out of control at the very same time.
If you were a boy.
She couldn’t help but picture her brother in her head. Her brother, who she always thought had prettier features, how Lola never stopped talking about his gorgeous green eyes and how Donna wished she could have them for herself sometimes.
“Really, that’s…“ Donna’s voice trailed off, trying to think of something to say. But all she could focus on was how Lola might’ve known her feelings better than herself.
Can she tell? Can Ben tell? Can Mom tell? Can Brady tell? She couldn’t admit it even in her own mind, much less to anyone else. All she did was blame it on overthinking, on making stuff up. On it all being in her head. If she were to really think about it—really think about it, her future would be doomed.
Lola let her arms down, expression still riddled with anxiety. “I didn’t mean it to come off as so… strange. You’re just really special to me.”
Donna wished she could say that Lola didn’t need to apologize.
“You’re really special to me, too,” she said with a forced smile. Special wasn’t enough to describe it.
Lola smiled back, unknowingly. Donna couldn’t help but wonder if she ever smiled at Ben like that. He would never have to be too scared to hold her hand, or to regret staring at her during class. It was normal. What Ben and Lola had was normal, and she was happy for them.
She didn’t resent her brother for the way it seemed like he was dismissive of her, but the selfish thought that she wished it were her always lingered.
“Goodnight, Donnie,” Lola whispered before shutting her eyes.
Donna’s gaze stayed trained on her for a second too long.
“Goodnight,” she replied.
She buried her face as much as she could into the pillow, wishing she could just scream into it and have it drown out her thoughts.