Turn On the Lights Ch. 02

Although, I realised, they were always qualified with 'if I was a guy' or 'if I was a lesbian' or 'if I wasn't straight'. Always an if. If, if, if.

I wanted to remove those 'ifs'. How the hell was I going to do that?

Our friendship had grown strong; we were together a lot at work, and went to the pub with the guys on a semi-regular basis.

What was missing, I realised, was one-on-one time outside work. Sure, the grid was becoming our little escape from the world, but you were still on the end of a comms line for the duration of the show, and shouting over the racket of a screaming PA system never really made for good friendship time. But I didn't feel like we were at the stage where I could just ask her to come over to my place for...for what?

An idea formed. We had a maintenance day tomorrow; no gig, just helping Jake fix, replace, and change stuff.

I pulled my phone out and thumbed through my contacts to find the one labelled 'Becky'. Starting a new message, I typed:

Wanna meet up earlier tomorrow? I'll be in the grid by about 10.

I stared at the message for a couple of seconds. I realised I needed to hit 'send' before I backed out of the idea. Tap. Exhale.

I slumped back onto the sofa, considering the possible replies I might get.

My phone pinged to indicate a reply. I grabbed it off the sofa's arm and quickly opened the message.

Sure, see you then.

No questioning of why, no confusion. Exactly what I had hoped for. A smile grew on my face.

***

We met at ten the next day, in the grid. I was sat on a chair eating a croissant I'd bought on the way in. I'd taken another risk in my choice of clothing; today I was wearing shorts. I'd bought those on the way in, too. Finally.

She came up the ladder and turned, smiling at me. I had to force myself to keep eating; those eyes were boring into me again.

"Hey, lady. Oh wow, shorts." She nodded at my legs approvingly. "I hope seeing your legs is gonna become a regular thing," she said, seemingly half to herself. Suddenly she stopped and stammered. "I mean...uh, y'know, you feeling that you can show some leg, being a regular thing. Confidence increase, that's what I meant. Not because I want to look at your legs."

The outburst caught me off guard a little. Another one of those moments.

"I mean, great legs, but y'know, straight and everything, so not eyeing you up," she babbled on, not looking at me.

There it was again, the qualifier. I needed to shift those damn things somehow. I needed to put more input into turning this friendship into something more. It was a scary thought for someone so used to being a follower instead of a leader.

I took a deep breath. "If you wanted to look at my legs, I wouldn't mind."

Becky's face showed a war of emotions. No reply came.

"I mean, I don't think they're that great, but if you like them, then that's cool." It was a semi-lie, I thought guiltily. I did like my legs, but I wanted her to feel at ease.

Still no reply.

"I'm open-minded, Becky." I left it at that, leaving the opening dangling for her to take.

After a long pause, she didn't bite. "Scruff...I'm not...I like guys. I don't...uh..."

Silence ensued for a few seconds. I realised that maybe I needed to offer her more; the problem was that I knew what I had to say, and the concept of saying to Becky scared me. It was a risk. Could I take that risk?

I took a deep breath, and summoned the courage I needed from some deep reserve. "Becky, I'm fine with another girl looking at me. In fact I'm more than fine with it. Do you understand what I mean?"

She looked at me then, and I saw some confusion clear from her face.

"You're...really?"

"Yes. You don't wonder why I'm never interested in guys?"

"Well...yes, but I just thought...I dunno what I thought. You're...gay?"

"Yes." A look of panic started to appear on her face. Panic was building inside me too. "Becky, I don't want this to come between us. I just thought you should know. You're a good friend and I don't want to lose that."

She calmed a little, but I could see that something was still not right. Was she a homophobe? I decided to push for the answer.

"Is this...is it a problem? For you, I mean..."

"No! No...I just...I just didn't expect it."

I sighed. "Becky, be honest with me. Does it freak you out? Do I freak you out now that you know?"

She seemed to regain control of herself with some effort. "No. No, Scruff. It's fine. I mean, hey, I'm the last person to judge someone on what they find sexually attractive. Some of the things I've done are pretty wild, and occasionally bizarre."

That got a raised eyebrow from me. I knew Becky was no stranger to sex, and she talked about it like she was experienced, but the word 'bizarre' caught me off guard.

"So...are we still cool?"

"We're still cool," she nodded.

"Good."

"Yeah."

No 'as long as you don't put any moves on me' qualifier, I noticed.

"Becky, if you ever want advice about something like that, talk to me, okay?"

"What? Scruff, I've just told you I'm straight." She looked annoyed.

"Okay, but I'm just saying that if y-"

"I'm fucking straight, okay!?!" The outburst hit me hard.

"Okay."

"Just because you're gay, it doesn't mean that everyone is," she jabbed a pointed finger at me.

"Sorry, Becky. I didn't mean to offend you. I wasn't implying anything." I was mortified. I dropped my head, hiding behind my hair and hat.

"Good." She seemed to cool down a little.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Well, this is going well.

"Sorry, Scruff. I didn't mean to shout."

"It's okay," I lied, still feeling like I'd been hit. Some distant part of my brain registered that her outburst wasn't a normal reaction to an offer of help, but failed to compute what that meant for me.

"No, it's not. I need to control my shit. Look, I definitely don't have any problem with it...with you. I just need to...I dunno." She stared into middle distance, evidently thinking.

I said nothing, not willing to interrupt whatever was going on in that beautiful mind. I was treading on thin ice; anything could happen now. My position was out in the open, and I'd left it to her to let me know her position. She'd trotted out the usual line, but - as usual -- seemed unsure.

I realised with a sudden clarity that Becky didn't really know whether she liked girls or not. She was at a tipping point. I'd always known how I felt; I'd taken it for granted. From day one I'd known that I wasn't interested in boys, and so I'd never had the internal tornado of emotions that Becky was going through.

I considered my options. What I needed to do was sway that balance in my favour, but in such a way that it could never sway back. How the hell was I supposed to do that? The timescale also worried me -- was I supposed to give her some room to think it through herself and stay out of her decision process? But then I risked a negative result. It was fifty-fifty at the moment. I needed to sway the balance and then give her room, I realised.

But was now the time to attempt an action that would change the balance? Right now, she was struggling with her emotions, and probably not overly pleased with me for pushing her.

But how long would it take for her to settle on an answer? And, I realised, I didn't really know what the question was. 'Liking girls' covered a large amount of ground.

My gut feeling indicated that Becky was more straight than gay, but that bisexuality was not entirely out of the window as a concept for her. The questions were twofold: would she be curious enough to experiment, and would she then decide that she was in fact 'gay enough' (I internally gagged at the turn of phrase my brain had chosen to use) to consider a relationship with a woman?

A voice in the back of my brain told me that I was probably overanalysing this.

I decided that I probably needed to push the first step right now, before she made a decision without some sort of concept of what it was like to be with another woman.

A knot formed in my stomach. This would require some balls. Of solid steel. Large ones. Not my strong point.

I summoned every ounce of courage that I could, then stood, crossed the three paces to her chair, and crouched in front of her. Her head came around to look at me.

"Becky, we need to talk about this."

"We already are."

"No, I don't mean about my sexuality. I mean yours."

"Scruff, I've alread-"

I cut her off with a finger on her lips. "Shhh. Let me talk." She backed away an inch, breaking the contact, but kept quiet.

I looked into her eyes, and saw what I was looking for: fear. It confirmed my thoughts. There was no other explanation for what I saw. That was the moment when I realised that I had a chance, that I wasn't dreaming all of this, that there was something there to make a break for. Internally, I whooped with joy, and suppressed a grin before it reached my mouth.

"I think I know what's going on. And I know you're scared. It's frightening - it all feels new and strange and different to you. And you're worried about how people will react. I want you to know that if you decide to take the brave route, I will be here with you every step of the way. Whether I'm involved or not. I will help you as best I can, I will be here to talk to when you need it. I will be here to comfort you when you need it. I can give advice, I can give my opinion, and most of all I can back you up and defend you against anything bad that comes your way."

I took a breath and continued, locking her eyes with mine. "I'm not good at communicating with people, as you know. I'm not good with uncomfortable situations. But for you, I would walk into hell itself."

I brought the finger that was hovering in front of her lips down to her chin, and lifted it slightly. Our faces were inches apart.

"I will always be here. Always. No matter what happens."

Her mouth was open slightly, and her eyes had dropped down a little. She was looking at my lips.

"Scruff...how...how..." her voice started breaking up.

"Shhhh." I moved forwards, wrapping my arms around her and putting her head on my shoulder. I felt quiet sobs jerk her body slightly.

"How did you know?" She croaked into my shoulder.

"It doesn't matter. I could just tell." I pulled away slightly, our faces coming level again. "Becky, I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

I held her face with my hands, and fixed her eyes with mine again. "Be honest. To yourself. Don't cage yourself in a lie that you will come to hate. And be honest with me. Right now," I added.

And with that, I took the action I had been working up to.

I closed the distance between us, and tilted my head. My nose went to the left of hers. I was still holding her face. I stopped there, our lips millimetres apart, and waited.

It seemed like an eternity passed, and then her breathing hitched and she pushed her lips into mine.

I took her bottom lip, gently holding it before softly taking it again, and again. I heard her breathing getting heavier. I moved my left hand to the back of her head, gently holding her. My right moved to below her ear, cupping her neck.

My brain was on fire. I had wanted this for so long, and now it was here, and it was beautiful. Her lips felt divine; soft and luscious. I wanted more; I wanted her tongue, and I considered whether to escalate the kiss or not. If I did, I ran the risk of it being too much too soon, and losing her. If I didn't, I ran the risk of the kiss not having as much of an impact on her decision as I hoped, and losing her as a result.

I kneeled up a bit higher, turned my head a little more, and opened my mouth a little. I traced her lips with my tongue, knocking for entry. For a few seconds, I thought I'd gone too far, and then with a soft "Mm", her lips parted, and I was in.

Becky could kiss.

Like no other person I had ever kissed. She was wasted on guys, I thought greedily. She was explorative, touring my mouth with her tongue, but soft and supple. But that wasn't what I wanted to happen right now; right now I needed to make an impression on her. So I cupped her face with my hands, opened my mouth wider, and selfishly claimed her mouth for my own.

I explored every crevice of it, duelling with her tongue as I did so. I circled her tongue, stroked it, flicked it, all with my own tongue. Then I closed my lips and sucked it into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue as I did. That caused an exhalation of breath.

Yes! I thought, triumphantly. You will remember this.

I took her tongue with my lips again, sucking it in, toying with it. Then I firmly brought her head towards mine and sealed my lips against hers again, duelling some more.

Eventually, I closed my lips slowly, kissing her gently, still playing with her lips with my own. I slowed and drew back, looking into her eyes.

Tears were on her cheeks. I wiped them away with my fingers. We both took a moment to regain our breath.

"That felt honest," I said simply.

The moment was broken by Jake bawling up from the floor. I could see him through the holes in the grates I was standing on, looking small that far below us.

"Becky! Scruff! Get your asses down here, there's work to do!"

I looked back up at Becky. "Are you okay?" I received a nod in response. "We'd better go. Here." I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and offered it to her. "Remember what I said. And remember what we just did."

***

I gave Becky some space. I needed to let her work it out for herself. I'd thrown my ball up in the air; it was up to her to catch it. Or bat it away. The ball was my heart.

Jake kept us busy and apart for the rest of the day - I was up in the grid refocussing and changing lamps, and Becky was on the floor refilling smoke machines and sorting out the lights that were at floor level.

I caught Jake looking at me a few times, probably trying to figure out if he should make a pass at me. I did my best to put him off.

Eventually, everything was done, and we gathered in the middle of the floor to discuss.

"Soooo, PA's sorted. You get everything done that you wanted to?" Dave turned his attention from his clipboard to Jake.

"Yeah, me and the girls sorted everything. Only thing I didn't get around to was that rear bar of six, but that can wait. We rarely use it anyway. As long as it's done for theatre season we should be fine."

"Good, good. Sounds like you two did well today," Dave nodded at myself and Becky. "Well, I think that now's as good a time as any to call it a day. See you guys next week." The next gig was a few days away.

A chorus of farewells followed him as he headed for the nearest exit. Mike and Jake picked up their bags and said their farewells too, leaving me with Becky.

I looked at her. She looked thoughtful. "I suppose we'd better go too," she said.

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Good. Look, I've got a gig for a rental company until Tuesday, so I probably won't see you until then. But when I get back, I'd like to meet up and talk. Coffee or something. Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"I'll text you or something."

"Yeah."

"Becky, remember what I said. Be honest with yourself. And me."

She nodded. I picked up my bag, gave her a hug, and considered giving her a brief kiss, before deciding against it and leaving.

"If you need me, call me. I won't be able to pick up if I'm in the middle of a show, obviously, but call me anyway."

***

I spent the next few days knee-deep in dimmers at a very large show at a nearby arena. It was good to have a distraction; it was a pretty intensive gig - lots of changes throughout the show and a very busy backstage area. I was grateful, otherwise I knew I would be driving myself slowly mad thinking about Becky. If I hadn't been working, I'd have texted or called her by now, and the logical part of my brain was telling me that I needed to avoid that. I needed to let her come to her own conclusions. Hopefully, she'd miss me too.

Her call came -- sod's law -- in the middle of a show on the last day. I couldn't answer -- I was operating a bunch of motor hoists in the roof at the time; you don't take risks when there is over a tonne of lighting hanging off hoists.

Two agonising hours later, I rang her back. It went straight to voicemail. I hung up and sent her a text instead, asking if she was okay.

Tuesday came and went, with no reply. I was starting to worry.

Wednesday arrived, and we were both due in to our venue do spot for an acoustic duo. A one-artist gig, it looked like an easy one on paper.

I arrived mid afternoon, to find Becky and Mike talking at front of house.

"Jesus, Becky, you don't mince your words do you?"

"I want to be fucked - what's the point of dancing around the subject?"

"Uh..."

I stopped in my tracks as I overheard the conversation. A sinking feeling started in my stomach.

"Becky, this is a bit...sudden. I'm not that kind of guy."

"Bullshit. All guys think with their dicks. Follow it."

"No."

"Well you've changed your tune, you looked interested when I first started working here..."

"Things were different. It's not gonna happen, Becky."

"Fine. I won't stop asking," she huffed.

I turned and headed for the toilet, walking quickly away from them.

I barged into the toilet, threw myself into a cubicle and locked the cubicle door behind me. Tears came fast and hard, wracking my body. Everything had backfired; Becky had made her decision, and it was the worst result I could think of. Now I had to deal with the consequences.

I slumped down onto the closed toilet seat, my bag falling off my shoulder onto the floor. I heard the glass bottle of cider in it break, but didn't care. I leaned on the wall of the cubicle, tears running off my cheeks and splashing onto my lap.

I'd lost her. It was all in vain. All the hope, the effort, the feelings. It was all wasted; dashed on the rocks by one conversation with Mike.

She'd decided that girls weren't her thing, and she was going after Mike like her life depended on it. Instead of me.

I wondered if Mike knew of my feelings for Becky; if he had any idea, whether he suspected anything. He knew I liked girls, but I didn't know if he'd made the connection. He could be very perceptive, for a guy. I could see why Becky was attracted to him; physically he was a good specimen, and he had a great, understanding personality.

He'd rebuffed Becky, but I didn't think that would last. How could anyone resist those eyes? Or that body? No, Mike would cave in eventually. And it would devastate me even more.

Some distant voice of reason in the back of my mind told me that I needed to find a way of dealing with this, and not let it affect me as much as it was. I needed to find a way to take my mind off her. That would be difficult later, when I would be stood a couple of metres from her up in the grid. I needed a distraction. Something else to look forwards to.

I knew that what I really needed was to close the door on my feelings for Becky, and find someone else to push those feelings towards. I needed a new focus.

Dave supplied that for me half an hour later.

***

I'd pulled myself together, wiped my eyes, and headed up into the tech office where I could sit down in a bit more comfort, without hearing the venue through the door.

It was empty, so I collapsed onto one of the sofas and grabbed a cider from the fridge. Drinking on duty was usually a big no-no for me, but today I needed it. I realised I needed to sort the dripping, cider-smelly mess of my rucksack out as well.

I drained the bottle quickly and threw it into the bin, listening to the bottle smash and not caring.

I was considering having a second -- and potentially a third - when Dave opened the door.