Bitch, I Love You

"We are! We can! He was right there Heather, I had to go for it."

Heather's eyes flickered back and forth between mine like she was trying to decipher an unexpected test question.

"I thought you'd be excited," I whispered.

She left.

Kristen was going to be a good lawyer. About half way through recounting my night with Davin, she started to figure it out.

"Okay, fine, Heather sorta has a thing for him too," I admitted, when faced with the full power of her deposition.

My dinner buddy's expression confirmed what I'd been slowly coming to terms with over the weekend. I'd made a real ass of myself.

"Well, I still want details," Kristen said. I had just been getting to the good part, with Davin's pants about to come off.

It was strange giving the dirty rundown to someone besides Heather. I had to catch myself a few times when I almost forgot who I was talking to, and the regret hit me again. But Kristen was an eager listener. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, so that I didn't have to spin my filthy tale too loud in the nice restaurant.

"That's it?" she said, when I wrapped things up by describing how I'd picked Davin's shirt as my prize. She sounded unsatisfied. But she didn't look it. Kristen had a far off look in her eyes, like she was imagining what her own hoe life might have been like.

"Yeah," I said lamely.

"You weren't on the rag," Kristen accused. "We went to the bathroom together, I would have noticed."

"Yeah."

She came back to earth then, and really put me on the witness stand. Talking about my hookup with Davin must have emotionally opened me up, because I was answering her probing questions without much thought to it. And by the time I realized I was in trouble, it was too late.

Kristen waggled her finger right at my chest. Putting the last pieces together as she spoke, "Okay, okay. I get it now. You and Heather weren't competing. You were— Damn girl, that's cold."

"Hey," I said, in unenthusiastic defense.

We sat in silence for a minute. Kristen finally started on her entrée. I picked at mine.

"What should I do?"

Kristen looked up at me. She took the time to swallow, and even dab a napkin at her lips. "I don't know. I've never cheated on anyone before."

Monday morning, after a painfully lonely weekend, I waited on my bed, fingers twining nervously on my lap. Normally Heather would have knocked on my door by now, or just barged in. But at five past the hour, I was losing hope.

I slumped off my bed and grabbed my book bag off the ever growing pile of dirty laundry. I opened the door to find a girl I didn't know on the other side. She had that slightly befuddled freshman look. Her knuckles were raised, about to knock. At least, I was pretty sure she was about to knock. I shifted my grip on my book bag just in case Heather had sent one of the pledges to assassinate me.

"Oh, Miss Mel!" squeaked the girl, and I noticed she was touting two backpacks, one over each shoulder. Even compared to me she was a slight thing, and one of the bags looked stuffed particularly heavy. She shrugged it off with obvious relief. It was Heather's backpack.

I managed not to roll my eyes. The sorority pledges had to run around calling the girls 'Sister', and for some reason that seemed to afford me an awkward honorific just due to my general proximity with Heather. "Yeah, hi. What's up with this?" I took Heather's bag as it was offered to me. It felt like it contained every book she owned. Or maybe a bomb.

"Sister Heather told me to give you this."

"Uh, okay." I looked at the girl, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even an instruction. She stared back at me, much the same. "Does she want me to donate to the library, or what?"

Heather's errand girl snapped a glance back down the dorm hall, like maybe now that she was free of the extra weight she could just run. "I'm sorry. Sister Heather said to bring it to you."

"Nothing else?"

She took a half step back, looking frightened. "I'm sorry."

"Well, thanks, I guess," I retreated into my room, dragging Heather's heavy backpack by its strap. The strap held, barely.

Eventually, not knowing what else to do, I headed to class. It was quite the trek carrying two backpacks, made all the more difficult by the vast discrepancy in their weight. I felt like I was constantly on the verge of toppling over. Probably because I was.

I made it to Professor Cole's lecture only five minutes late. It felt like everyone was staring at me as I wrestled my double load into Heather and my usual seats. But it was just a feeling.

Without Heather to whisper with, the lecture was impossible. Just to pass the time I opened my binder to take some notes. Heather's backpack sat in her chair, judging me. And then, I understood the nature of my punishment.

Trying not to sigh too loudly, I fished out Heather's binder. As an added insult, the ranking list we'd made had been moved to be the very first piece of paper speared by the coils. I'd been downgraded: '6.5' from my previous '8'.

Now unable to suppress the periodic self pitying sigh, I set to work transcribing two copies of notes.

When I got back to my room, Heather was there sitting on my bed. My muscles were complaining from lugging her ridiculous bag around all day and my brain was similarly mushy from actually paying attention in class. It took a lot of effort not to snap at her. But I managed. And as soon as I'd fought down my initial fight instincts, I found that I really was ready to humble myself.

"Hey. I took notes for you." I heaved Heather's backpack onto the bed beside her. I didn't try to hide how embarrassingly out of breath I was.

"Cool."

"And—" I swallowed my pride, it went down easier this time. "Heather, I'm really sorry."

She looked glumly at the far wall. "Cool."

"Heather," I started, but then, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Damn it," she said.

I twirled into my swivel chair—collapsed, really. I hadn't realized until just that moment how goddamn tired I was, emotionally and physically. "Shit, I thought you were really mad."

Heather sat up straighter. "I am mad."

"Come on dude. I did the stupid book bag thing."

"You think that makes us even? Bitch you basically cheated on me."

I felt the hurt of that one bubble up and go heavy in my eyelids. "Heather, you know I didn't think of it like that."

"I know. I know. Fuck, I don't want to get all mad. Look, I know what you were... trying to do." She rubbed at her eyes. When she opened them again they were a little red, but also narrow. "But we are not even."

"Okay, fine." I raised my hands in surrender. "Just— What's the rest of my punishment then?"

Heather scooted off my bed. Her curls pooled behind her momentarily and then followed her as she started toward the door. "Let's talk about that tomorrow," she said. The effect of her exit was somewhat ruined by her awkward, weighty, backpack.

Heather and I didn't talk much the next morning. But I was cozy and happy just to be back into the old routine with her. Still, I blurted, "I really am sorry," as soon as we were back out in the open air.

Heather took my hand. Then she wrapped it in her other one too, trapping mine in front of her as we walked. I braced myself for some martial arts throw—I didn't think Heather had any training, but cheerleading had to count for something—but it didn't come. We walked along for a bit, awkwardly stepping, connected but not quite in sync. "I'm not giving you the silent treatment. I'm just thinking. It's not a punishment," she said eventually. "I'll make Davin do those."

I stumbled, but stayed upright thanks to Heather clutching my hand to her lower belly. "You still want to do, that?"

Heather laughed. It was a barky self effacing laugh. Like she couldn't believe it herself. "Fuck Mel, I haven't thought about anything else for days. Well, except how much of a bitch you are."

I bit back the instinct to apologize again. Party out of pride, but also because it seemed unproductive. Heather knew I was sorry. She could take that or leave it. I knew what she really wanted now was supplication. "So what's my punishment then?"

"Oh, I dunno," Heather said, in a way that made it very clear she did know and probably had for a while now. "But you'd better skip meals that day, just to be safe."

Gulp. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked.

"Oh, don't be a baby. You'll love it."

"No, I mean, the threesome." I picked through my words carefully, trying to find the least accusatory way to say things. I settled with, "I don't want to hurt you again."

"Yeah," Heather sighed. "It's probably not a good idea. But fuck it, Mel. I wanna do it anyway."

When I didn't reply, she squeezed my hand in hers, almost painfully. "And I missed my number one hoe. Come on, bitch. Tell me you're still in," she said.

The knotted excitement that had led me to Davin's bedroom in the first place was suddenly back. But it was a sort of melancholy thrill this time. "This kind of thing ruins friendships, Heather." I squeezed her interlaced fingers. "I like being your friend."

Heather started to say something, but cut herself off almost immediately.

"What?" I asked. "Just say it."

Heather yanked me closer so that we walked sides pressed together. Surprisingly, it was less awkward. I felt the roll of her hips and stepped in time with them. "I love you too Melly," she said, her hands tight around mine. "But not in a gay way."

"I'm confused," I confessed.

Heather tried to lean her head on my shoulder. It probably worked nicely with boys, but our heights were too similar. Still, I leaned my head against her in response, so our temples could jostle against each other. Her hair had picked up some of the dusty smell of the old campus buildings, but underneath, were roses.

"I think we can do it," Heather said. "We're hoes. We've been like, training for this."

I snorted.

"Plus," she continued, "are we going to get jealous over Davin? I mean, come on."

"You kinda already did?"

"Bitch, I did not!" Heather unattached her head from mine. She shook her hair. Gold curls smacked rudely, but silkily, across my face. "The only fuck up so far has been that we didn't freak together."

"I'm sorry."

"Ugh, you can stop saying that now."

I shot a glance at Heather. She caught my eye, just for a moment, before the oscillation of her curls broke the line. But I think she saw me smile at her. "Just trying to reduce my punishment."

"You're back in? Don't tease me bitch."

"If you really think we can do it, yeah."

I loved the sound of her ear splitting squeal.

"How do you feel about cream pies?" Heather asked a few days later. We were in our usual dorm room spots. She was lying on my bed, biochem textbook in front of her. I was in the swivel chair. My book was open too, but Heather had just shoved nucleotide conversion straight out of my brain.

I made a face. "Messy."

"But kinda hot? Ha! You blushed, bitch!"

"I don't think I want a cream pie from Davin," I said.

"Well you'd better come round to it. Because I'm gonna have him pump you full."

I looked down at my textbook. 'Nucleic acids form the basic building blocks of many structures, not the least of which is DNA,' it read. Well fuck.

Heather flopped onto her side, loud and dramatic so that I'd look back up at her. "Hey girl, it's no fun if you don't hit back," she said.

Her hair tumbled effortlessly to coil up on my bed. It curled satin soft, as if to highlight how cheap my cotton sheets were by comparison. I'd tried Heather's hair care routine once, stuck with it for a whole month, but it hadn't amounted to anything worth the effort. Which was probably for the best. I would have had to start adding color to my wardrobe. Punk rock and bouncy curls didn't mix. But now, I wasn't just imagining running my fingers through my friend's hair in envy. I was picturing myself brushing a perfect golden hoop away from green eyes.

"Fine then," I said. And surprising myself by even having said those two words, I let my mouth keep tumbling on to finish the dirty thought I'd figured I was too afraid to speak, "But you have to eat it."

"Ew. Gross," Heather said.

"You wanted me to hit back," I said, seeking to cover my embarrassment with the thrill of victory.

Heather was looking at me funny, fixing me with something between a glare and— well, I wasn't sure what else. "Fine," she said, "I'll do it. But only so you stop being smug."

"Wait, for real?"

"Yeah," she flicked her hair like she was brushing away stray leaves. "It's, whatever."

I tried not to let my shock show. It was instinctual, not to let Heather win. Because I knew that's all she was doing, trying to win. At least, I thought so. "Heather," I said slowly. "Do you like girls?" What I wanted to say was, 'Do you like me?' But that seemed a little much.

Heather pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you like it up the butt?" she asked, in retort.

"No," I said, confused. She knew I wasn't a fan. Though I would grit my teeth through it for special boys on even more special occasions. And I didn't have anything against the idea of it. The mechanics were just—

"But you're gonna let Davin shove it up there anyway."

"Shove?!"

"And you're kinda excited about it."

"Maybe, a little," I admitted. There was no use trying to lie through my blush.

"Well, it's like that," Heather said.

We stared at each other. Her, trying to telepath some abstract idea between us. Me, mostly blank, totally lost.

Heather sighed. "You don't get it, do you." She slid off my bed, curls pooling behind her before dutifully bouncing along behind.

I watched her lips, glossed pink, as they got closer and closer. She pulled herself right up to me, her hands on the armrests of my chair, so I had to part my knees around her. She smelled buttery, and a little floral.

"Listen bitch," she said. Her lips were so close that the words hit mine still hot. "I'll eat your messy cunt. Maybe I'll even like it."

"Don't call it that," I mumbled. But Heather's promise was like being hit by a truck, only in reverse. Instead of blowing me back into the chair, it pulled me into her like an implosion. I leaned into her, searching for her lips.

But what I kissed was not glossy and pink. Instead, for a humiliating moment, I made out with two fingers, held vertical, between us.

"But if you fall in love with me I will trash your fucking heart," Heather finished.

I slumped back into my chair. "I'm so confused," I whined.

"But horny?" asked Heather.

"Unbelievably." I was too emotionally whiplashed to do anything but tell the truth.

Heather's face followed mine as I leaned back in the chair. Her eyes were sparkling. Her lips stayed just out of kissing distance. "Perfect. Let's do it tonight," she said.

Davin's jaw didn't literally hit the floor. But it did hang slack.

"Brought your shirt," I said brightly, gesturing to Heather, who was wearing it. The arms were too long. They dangled limply past her fingertips. The hem reached to her mid thigh, and her collarbone peeked out from one side of the overlarge neck hole. But mostly, something about the way it draped on her, suggested that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Davin just stared. Not that I could blame him. He'd been expecting me. I'd even demanded he evict his roommate for the night. But I hadn't warned him he'd be opening his door to the ultimate guy fantasy.

"Hello. Hi. Can we come in? I'm fucking freezing," Heather said, breaking her innocent schoolgirl pose.

Davin still didn't move.

"C'mon," I said, and pulled Heather past him.

He stepped out of the way for us, which seemed to break his trance. "I didn't know—" he stammered.

"That's the idea, dummy. Are you complaining?" I asked.

"No. Of course not."

"Good." I bounced up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm going to use the bathroom. You two behave."

I listened to the muffled and halting sounds of Heather and Davin talking as I checked my hair in the bathroom mirror. Then, I checked it again. And a third time. I wasn't being neurotic, this was just the plan. Heather had wanted to start things off on her own. Something to do with righting the imbalance in our relationship with Davin.

Once I'd preened every part of my body to the point where I really was about to develop a neurosis, I left the bathroom. Heather and Davin weren't in the kitchen anymore.

I found them in the bedroom. Davin was standing a few feet from the bed, eyes closed. Kneeling in front of him, bundle of curly blond hair jostling as her head bobbed, was Heather. She was still wearing his shirt.

"Hey stud," I singsonged, stepping into the room.

Davin's eyes flickered open. Heather turned to look at me too, popping his cock out of her mouth. "He's big," she said. Davin made a face like he might explode all over her right then and there.

"Told you." I knelt behind Heather, who waggled Davin's cock at me in offering. I reached out and took it at the base, but just guided it back to her mouth. She accepted it back amiably. It was strange, I thought, that what felt most intimate about the exchange was that my palm was now slick with Heather's spit.

Starting just behind her ears, I ran my fingers through my best friend's hair. It was like sifting through rose petals. Even smelled that way.

She hummed encouragingly as I massaged her scalp, tangling myself in her curls. I remembered the weight of Davin's hand on the back of my head a few days ago, and how I'd wished he'd use it to take my mouth properly.

I rose up on my knees, backstopping Heather's head with my chest. I made little fists in her hair. They were tight enough that she stopped bobbing on Davin's cock.

Davin looked down at me curiously.

"Go on," I said, beaming up at him. "Fuck her face."

He was hesitant at first. But warmed up to the idea quickly. Heather's happy, "Mmmh," when he first properly gave it to her, like he was feeding her something sweet, certainly helped.

"Deeper. She can take it," I said. And though Heather didn't offer any more verbal encouragement, I could feel the subtle slacking of her jaw as she prepared to try.

Davin must have felt it too. Or maybe he just trusted me to know my friend's limits. Because when he next pulled back there was a wet unsealing sound that told me he'd been at the back of Heather's throat.

He pushed forward again, and I could feel Heather trying to lean away. But I stiffened behind her, holding her in place while Davin speared her. She shifted under my fingertips, shivered in a little convulsion, and a wet clicking noise came from somewhere inside her. When Davin pulled back out, she gasped, sucking in air, and would have collapsed forward if I'd let her.

"You okay?" I whispered in her ear. In answer, she reached out for Davin's hips and pulled him back to her.

I'd always disliked those noises porn girls made when giving head. Heather and I had even giggled about it a time or two. Quacking ducks aren't sexy, we'd agreed. But Heather's involuntary, throaty, glucking as Davin became more and more comfortable with the idea of just using her had me reevaluating my position.

There was another sound too, also wet, but subtler, easy to miss, hard to place. Dragging my focus away from Heather's jostling mass of curls, I searched for a clue. The rhythmic motion of her shoulder, easy to see underneath the thin athletic weave of her oversized shirt, gave it away.

The garden of golden roses in front of me must have hidden an enchanted perfume, because I didn't think. I simply felt my way down Heather's arm. Her muscles were flexing beneath the loose fabric, rhythmic, in time with the faint noises coming from between her legs.