Serena

Now I was lost. It was five miles back to town and at least another three to our house. I had walked less than two miles when my phone rang. "Where the hell are you?" Dad snarled.

When I explained where I was, he hung up. Less than ten minutes later, Dad's car pulled up alongside me. As we drove home, he snapped commandingly, "Okay, tell me what happened."

"It was nothing, Dad, honestly."

"Don't lie to me, Chelsea, I want to know what happened."

Seeing the look of confusion and concern on his face, I burst out crying and the whole story flooded out. He pulled the car over and pulled me into his arms. His warm comforting embrace took away all the fear and anxiety. "It's okay, Angel. Let's get you home."

When we walked in, Serena took one look at my tear-streaked face and rushed into my arms. "It will be okay, shush, baby doll. Relax, tell me what happened."

I had to relate the story again, but this time I could see Dad was angry, his fists opened and closed, his knuckles clenching so hard they were white.

Mom walked with me into my room as I prepared for bed. "My baby, not all boys are like that. You will find one who is respectful and nice. Your heart will flutter and you will feel love. I promise, things will improve."

She hugged me as I slipped under the covers, her soft soothing voice calming the turbulent waters. She purred softly, "Sleep, Angel, sleep. It will all be better in the morning." Her warm hand wiped away my tears. "Tomorrow the sun will rise and you will see, it is not the end of the world."

At school, the girls wanted to know what happened. I said nothing and they kept prying until I told them some of the story. "OMG girl, why didn't you just give him a blowjob or something? Christ, even a handjob."

I was suddenly awakened. I was disgusted by the thought of it. I didn't just hate him, I hated boys: full-stop. I would rather kiss Alison. That realisation frightened me.

The rest of the day turned into a nightmare. As we walked around the school, I received lots of weird looks. I could see I was a topic of conversation. Eventually, I found out. Hayden told his mates he fucked me. I was devastated, and the smug bastard had the balls to walk up and try to kiss me.

I slapped him as hard as I could and he laughed loudly, making sure anybody nearby could hear. "That's not what you said last night, Chelsea, begging me for it."

He disappeared off into the crowd. I felt like my world had collapsed. Michelle and Alison stood by me and tried to tell the truth, but Hayden was popular and his story was believed. I was now cast as the slut.

That night I couldn't hide my despair. Mom cajoled it out of me as she always did. We hugged, she comforted me and tucked me into bed.

When she walked out, I snuck out of bed and walked down to the lounge room door. "That little cockroach," she snarled. "The filthy lying shit. He needs to suffer."

I heard Dad cuddle her. "It will be okay; we will make it better. We can only love her."

"Yes, but that little prick is going to get away with it and our daughter is hurting. You saw how devastated she was."

He chuckled, not his usual gay laugh, this was icy cold. Icicles dripped off every word. "He will get his just deserts, that I promise. As god is my witness, he will suffer."

I snuck back to bed. The hurt in Mom's voice. She felt my pain.

School was tense the next day. There were still lots of rude callous comments. Boys asking if I wanted it. Girls whispering loudly enough that I could hear, "Slut." The good news was Hayden didn't show up. It took two days before we found out. He was in hospital. He was so badly beaten, they feared for his life.

His attacker was never found. The police didn't seem that interested. Nothing was ever said, but I noticed Mom taking extra special care of Dad. It didn't take a genius.

When we went for our daily football game and we walked to the Ice Cream parlour, his arm on my shoulder, I squeezed his waist extra tight and leaned up for a kiss. "Thanks, Dad."

He gave me a quizzical look. "For what?"

"For being my dad, and for caring."

He hugged me tight. "You are mine: my daughter; trust me I will always care for you, and I promise you now, I will always be there for you."

His love seemed to make it all feel better. Mom told me to ignore the bitches at school. If they wanted to paint me as the slut, then wear that tag with pride."

It was strange. For years I cultivated the hard-core bitch persona. The pot smoking, beer drinking rebellious chick. It was often said I was a slut back then. Now it hurt. I tried to fit into the social cliques, but no I was still an outsider.

I kept my friends circle small; I reverted a little to my persona as the loner. That's how I felt, except when I was home with Mom, Dad and Eddie, my little brother. I loved Eddie; he grew so quickly. He became a pain in my side. He always wanted to go with me. It didn't matter where or with who. He wanted to tag along.

Little brothers... trouble.

*****

As I was preparing to climb on the bus departing for University, Mom held me so tight I thought she was going to strangle me. We kissed and she growled, "Call me every day."

"Yes, Mom, I'll call.

Dad came in for his cuddle. His big arms circling me. "Work hard, stay focused and you can be whatever you want to be."

I smiled as Eddie snuck in for his cuddle. "Bye, Sis, good luck."

I sat back in the seat, getting one so I could watch as they huddled together. My family. My beautiful family. Damn, I was going to miss them. They didn't exactly run along beside the bus as we pulled out of the depot, but they waved so hard I thought they might take off.

As I sat, I lifted up my backpack and cradled it tight against my chest. As I did, I noticed an envelope poking out. I eagerly prised it open to find it stuffed with money. I laughed. "Dad, you idiot."

They had already paid my tuition and accommodation, bought me new clothes and a computer. I stuffed the envelope back in my back pack and looked around to ensure nobody saw it.

The accommodation Mum and Dad organised for me was not a flat or a dorm. It was at a B&B. The landlady had three rooms she let out. I was the only student. The others were all men.

School, what can I say? It was tough. Environmental Science, my chosen subject, was tough. With Mom driving me, I had made a decision; I wanted a job where I could make a difference. I could have chosen several career paths; my grades were good enough, but this was it for me. I wanted to do something positive, something to improve the world.

It was my personal life that sucked. None of the guys who showed any interest in me excited me. I seemed to attract arseholes. Slick smarmy dicks.

My friends tried to set me up with guys, but none of them excited me. Some were nice and we chatted, enjoyed movies, meals. What was missing was what I expected to be some yawning hunger: a need, a desire to quench my thirst. Sadly, it just didn't happen. I kissed a few to see if perhaps I just needed to give it time.

No, nothing, no yearning unslakable thirst.

It came as a shock, a flaming hurtling thunderbolt from the sky. Cupid's arrow dug deep into my chest; my heart skipped a beat. My tummy burned.

A vision so beautiful angels dissolved in comparison appeared. I watched as she ordered her Chai Latte. Her head tilted cutely. Her lips pursed as she said thank you. I couldn't believe her eyes, sparkling, they glinted in the fluorescent light. Her skin was rosy and smooth.

Oh my god, her body. How do you describe perfection? She was not tall, but her body moved with an equine grace. Even in heels, she was sure footed.

Her dress was elegant, although understated. I wanted to talk to her, hear her voice. Touch her skin, feel its warmth against my own. Her lips, a milky pink. God, she was a goddess.

She walked straight past me to find a seat and drink her coffee alone. I watched like some crazed stalker, trying to look uninterested, aloof. I hungered for eye contact, anything to show she saw me. Surely, she must feel this? How could she not?

Immersed in her tablet, she was oblivious to my very existence. I saw hints of a smile, a sweet sexy smile that echoed her nature. Look at me, my mind screamed... Please, just look this way."

It wasn't to be, she finished her drink and walked out.

My abilities as a detective developed quickly. I stalked her like a hunting leopard. I found out her name: Arabella Evans. She was studying psychology, she liked salami sandwiches for lunch. She stayed on campus in a shared dorm.

I was in serious lust. I was uncomfortable around her, unable to talk. I became clumsy, a clown.

There seemed no way into her life. Of course, I could just walk up and say hello. If my damn mouth would work. I was afraid that if I tried, I would become a mute imbecile.

After weeks of following her every move, I found a way in. She was a member of the drama club. God, I hated it, pretentious make believe; but I went along not as a participant, but an observer. I heard her voice, soft, sultry. Thick treacly velvet. When I listened to her recite lines I tingled, my skin itched and my face burned.

At night with the lights out, the bedclothes wrapped tight around me, I discovered masturbation. My fingers sliding over my mound, dipping gently into my crevice. Slippery with desire, pulsing, holding tightly as my finger slipped in and out, caressing the folded lips. My very core exposed, gooey and open as my fingers found that glorious spot. The place that made me sigh, my mouth open, my lips dry. My hips jerking quickly against my hand.

Her name sliding from my mouth, "Arabella. Belle."

My orgasm so strong I lost consciousness momentarily. I had never experienced anything like it.

Mom, Dad and I talked most nights. They wanted to know everything. How my classes were going, what other things I was doing. Did I have a boyfriend? I felt bad lying to them. Mom was so impatient. She expected me to have a boyfriend. It embarrassed me so much, knowing Dad was listening. I lied, I said. "Mom, I have been on a few dates, but nothing serious."

She replied. "Do not lie to your mother. We understand you are away at school. Many boys will be chasing you. All we ask is that you are safe, use protection."

"Mom, stop it," I shrieked in embarrassment.

"No, baby, we know you will be experiencing life. Just choose wisely. A man who will respect you."

"Goodbye, Mom," I said as I hung up.

It happened and I felt a flood of humiliation. "Why are you following me around?" Arabella snapped. Her normally soft voice had a hard edge as she peered down at me.

I looked up into her hazel eyes, those glistening pools of light. Busted with nowhere to hide, I spluttered, "Excuse me?"

"Look, I don't know who you are, but this has to stop. Everywhere I go I see you. Why are you following me?"

She had snuck up on me. I was sitting in the gallery seats as she and her fellow actors rehearsed lines for an upcoming play. Immersed in a text battle with Mom, I didn't see her walk up to me.

My battle with Mom was so overpowering I had missed that they were finished.

"Well, don't just sit there. Why are you following me?"

"Sorry. I don't know why. I just like being near you," I spluttered.

Her face softened, the scowl disappeared and she gave me a strange look. "Are you gay or something?"

Gay... me... don't be ridiculous. I thought. But the facts were stacking up against me. Was I? "Umm, no, I don't think so."

"Then why the hell are you popping up everywhere I go?"

Looking confused, ashamed and guilty I mumbled. "I'm sorry, I can't explain it."

"Well stop it or I will report you." She stormed off in a lilac scented breeze. Damn she smelt as good as she looked.

That was that, except I couldn't get her image out of my head, the sound of her liquid voice still echoed in my skull. We still saw each other occasionally and I quickly turned my head.

The seat squeaked, rasping noisily on the floor. I was in the cafeteria having lunch. Absorbed in my study, I was caught unawares. I looked up to see Arabella sitting down. I almost fell backwards in shock.

She smiled seeing my shock. "I wanted to say sorry for being short with you the other night. I shouldn't have been so rude."

My nostrils twitched as her lilac scent swirled around us. My lips moved but words were impossible. She grinned. "I suppose I should have been flattered."

Her smile soothed my rising anxiety. "It's okay, I shouldn't have been stalking you."

"So why were you?"

I shrugged, not knowing what to say. Her eyes shone, and her face slipped into a teasing grin. "You're very shy, aren't you?"

I swallowed a lump that didn't want to go down. Where was my tough girl now that I needed her? "Yes, I am a little."

"Do I take it that you are attracted to me?" She sniggered.

"I don't know. I am drawn to you, but I was too shy to approach you."

We sat and ate, although the room was full and the chatter and laughter was cacophonous, at our table there was silence. The world muted. All I could hear was her breathing, the tinkle of her cutlery. I tried to steal surreptitious glances, but she kept catching me out. "What are you staring at?" she asked, not harshly, more teasing. Was she flirting with me? My heart raced a little.

The ice was broken and we slowly eased into a more natural conversation. She talked about her studies. I listened intently, hanging off every word.

We went off to our separate classes. It was surreal, we were now friends, hopefully.

Over forthcoming months, Arabella and I did become friends. She was everything I hoped for: funny, bright, intelligent. The only problem, she talked endlessly about boys. All I wanted to talk about was her, what she liked, what she read, what she listened to. No, all she did was go on and on about boys.

Our friendship blossomed. We were soon going out to bars for drinks. Of course, there were boys everywhere. They flocked to Arabella like hunting dogs.

We often spent evenings together, studying and drinking wine. She drove me crazy; surely she could see how madly in love with her I was? Maddening, I was wound up trying to decipher her body language, her signals.

One night in my room, we were supposed to be studying. It became impossible. With the wine gone, it left us both feeling tipsy. We were on my bed, books everywhere. She had some music playing on her phone. Like always, she thought I should listen. She leaned over and lifted the phone to my ear.

As she leaned over, all I could see was her beautiful face getting closer and closer. Instinctively I reached up, held her face in my hands and kissed her. Her gorgeous full lips parted slightly before she pulled back quickly shrieking.

"What are you doing?"

What was I doing? God, I don't know. All I knew was my face burned bright red with embarrassment and I felt completely humiliated. Everything had been so cool between us recently, and I thought she felt the same way.

She quickly scampered off the bed, gathered her books without speaking and rushed out, slamming the door behind her.

I cried, wailing like a sick puppy. Damn, sometimes I hated my new persona. I missed the tough girl, the rebel. The hard-nosed bitch who didn't care. She didn't cry, she didn't care.

Now all I could think of was talking to Mom, but she would be disgusted with me. I just knew it. Dad would be devastated.

Cuddled under the blankets, the phone ringing made me cringe. I knew it was going to be Mum. I couldn't talk to her now. I knew if I did, I would break down and tell her everything.

Not once, not twice, but on and on my phone went. In the end I muted the ring.

As I lay crying, there was a bang on the door. My landlady called out. "Ring your mother; she is concerned."

Was there no escape. In the end after I dried my eyes, I built up the courage to ring. "Hi, Mom."

"Where were you, why didn't you answer my calls?"

"I was busy."

"Too busy to talk to your mother. Disappointed, I am," she groaned.

Defeated, I sighed. "Sorry, Mom."

"I was worried, you always answer or return my calls. Is it your new boyfriend? Is he there?"

That's when the tears returned and I couldn't hold back. "I don't have a boyfriend. I'm gay!"

The phone went very quiet; she was still there, I heard her breathing. The silence dragged on, until she replied. "So, what, why didn't you return my call? Has something happened?"

I sniggered. "Didn't you hear me?"

"Yes, silly girl. I heard you, but I don't care. All I care about is your happiness. I can tell something happened. You cannot lie to me. Now spill, tell me all the details."

"Please don't tell Dad. Please, Mom, promise me."

"Hah, I make no such promise. You think he cares about who you like. He will be happy as long as you're happy. I love you, but I will not lie for you. Especially to him. He is your father."

Breaking down even more I burbled, "He will hate me."

"He could never hate you; he loves you. He wants the best for you."

As we talked, I relayed the whole story. "Mom, how can I go to school now? She will be there."

"Hah, big deal. So, she is there. What happened to that arrogant strong independent girl? You are strong. Do not let her push you around. You made a mistake, no crime committed. An error in judgement, nothing else."

"But she might tell others. I will be humiliated."

"Ridiculous." She snorted. "Honey, if you are a lesbian, then at least be a proud one. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You had a crush on a girl. That is nothing."

"Mom, people will talk."

"Let them. They said much worse things when you shoplifted, stole, abused. Being in love, that is nothing."

Her words, as always, comforted me and we talked for another hour until I could barely hold my eyes open. The dark world of sleep was dragging me under. The last words I heard were, "Good night, Angel."

Walking in the school gates, I was nervous. I went straight to my first class. Rather than eat in the cafeteria, I ate my packed tuna sandwiches on the grassed area.

I did my best to avoid any areas I knew she frequented. It was nerve wracking trying to avoid her. It only made me think of her more often. I wanted to purge her from my memory, to pretend she never even existed. Unfortunately, this was a small campus, and eventually we bumped into each other in the corridor. She didn't even acknowledge me.

That only made me angrier.

I immersed myself in my studies. I talked to Mom and Dad. I stayed in and kept to myself. Over time, things returned to normal. I followed my Dad's advice. My fears... I confronted them. I went back to eating in the cafeteria. When I saw her, I smiled. I wanted her to know, I didn't care.

Much to my surprise, it worked. It was she who averted her eyes. It was she who turned away and stopped coming to the cafeteria.

I started to feel comfortable in my new skin. I studied girls. I openly watched them, the way they walked, giggles and interaction. Admitting I was gay lifted a veil, a dark cloud vaporised. It became clear why I was never comfortable around boys.

My life improved. It was like I now had a superpower. My old don't-give-a-fuck attitude resurfaced. Not in a bad way, but I was different, stronger.

The happiness was not to last. My new joyous world imploded, and it was a phone call from Mom that delivered the killer punch. She was in tears, sobbing hysterically. "Chelsea, Dad has been killed by a drunk driver."

I fell back against the wall. "What... No, it must be a mistake."

The phone went silent and Eddie's voice took over. "Chelsea, it's true. Dad was in the middle of a routine traffic stop. A car with busted tail lights. He pulled them over to issue a ticket and a drunk driver panicked, seeing the flashing lights, lost control of his car and crashed into Dad as he stood looking in through the offender's window."