“Dicks are good, though,” Dally asserts.
I scowl. “How would you know? You’re a virgin, too.”
“I just assume that they are. Girls are doing dumb stuff for dicks all the time. Remember how Liza Conrad walked through the quad naked because the guy she was hot after told her he thought public nudity was hot and then he took pictures of her and posted them on his Instafeed, making fun of her tiny tits?”
I cover my own tiny tits in remembered horror. “Yes. That was terrible. What happened to him?”
“Dunno, but my point is that his dick must’ve been spectacular to convince her to do that. Ergo, dicks are good. It’s a fairly simple syllogism.”
“I don’t know what that is, but okay.”
“Simple logic test. If dicks make you do stupid things, their power must be grand,” Dally explains.
“Okay, but I am completely unmoved by dicks. In fact, I find the penis to be awful with all its veins and its weird shaped head bobbing up and down. Plus, they’re hairy. Do you remember the last dick pic I got? I finally understand why they call it a bush.” I push my tongue out and make a gagging sound.
“To be fair, that was old dick.” It was old. It was from my math prof who’d promised me a good grade if I was a good girl. I reported him to the dean and got my good grade anyway. “Maybe the hair grows more wild with old guys,” Dally continues.
I wince. “Can we not talk about it anymore? I’m going to have nightmares tonight if we do.”
“Sure. But my point is, I feel like you need to be certain that girls are your thing before you start racing after Star. It’s the only fair thing.”
“But I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never thought about another girl in a sexy way before. No offense, but when I look at you, while I’m thinking, damn Dally’s gorgeous and I wish I had a rack and ass like yours, I’m not wanting to stick my fingers between your legs.”
Dally crosses said legs. “I would hope not. That would violate our roommate contract.”
“I know.” I drag my palms down to my cheeks and squeeze my face tight, hoping that the right answer pops into my head.
She taps her fingers. “Do you have sexy thoughts about Star?”
I nod.
“Do you want to, uh, go down on her?”
I raise my shoulders a bit. “I mean...I’m not going to say no.”
“Hmmm.”
I drop my hands. “What’s that mean?”
“It means that I have zero attraction to women and the thought of going down on another girl does nothing for me. You’re gorgeous but that’s like a universal truth and I definitely think women’s bodies are generally speaking more beautiful than men, but unlike you, the idea of getting dicked down by someone like Mack turns me on very much. In fact, I had a very nice fantasy about him holding me down with one of his thick hands while basically driving me through the mattress last night.”
I try not to show my distaste at this very graphic hetero scenario but must do an absolutely pitiful job of it because Dally starts laughing.
“Okay, maybe you are a total lesbian and you are now having your gay awakening. Go forth and grab your Star.”
I slap a pillow across Dally’s head. “You don’t even know if she’ll have me.”
“There’s not a person alive who could resist you.”
I slap Dally again because she’s wrong, but there’s no point in arguing. She’s so stubborn that an actual rejection could happen in front of her face and she’d say it was because the other person got embarrassed or some shit like that. Dally opens her mouth to say something but our doorbell rings. We exchange a surprised look.
“It’s after ten,” Dally says with annoyance as she throws herself off my bed.
“I’ll get it,” I say, pulling a hoodie over my head. Dally’s only wearing her nightie and the closest robe is my silk one which really doesn’t cover much but it looked pretty in the store, which is generally my criteria for anything. If it looks nice, no matter how impractical, I feel like I should own it. It’s why I have six-inch-heel stripper shoes in my closet that I never wear. Looked good in the store, but they’re actual hell to walk in. Major props to any girl—or guy—that manages to walk in those things. I couldn’t even make it from the closet to my bed without twisting my ankle.
Barefoot and dressed in a part of short pajama pants and my pink Aerie hoodie with the butterfly pockets, I make my way to the door.
“Oh my God,” I exclaim when I see the person on the other side.
“I take it you’re surprised,” Star says, her pretty mouth turned down in a frown.
“I mean...I wasn’t expecting you.” Her lavender hair is wound up on the top of her head in a messy bun and she’s wearing another unbuttoned flannel shirt over a white T-shirt with black lettering that says “You can’t sit with me.”
“There’s a whole thing called a peephole.” She reaches around me and taps the little eye on the door.
“Oh, that thing. We never use it.”
Star shakes her head. “How are you still alive?” She holds up her phone. “You really shouldn’t be sending pics like these.”
“Oh?” My heart’s beating kind of fast.
“Or they’ll show up at your door.”
Really fast. And I’m getting hot. Very hot. “I, um, just wanted to replace your shirt.”
“Is that all you wanted?”
I run a hand across my forehead. What do I say? No, I’ve got other ideas but I don’t really know if I should tell you about them because Dally says I need to be sure and I’m not sure because I’ve never done anything like this with anyone, let alone a girl?
Star’s blue eyes search my face and whatever she sees there isn’t appealing because her plush lips stay turned down at the corners.
“Never mind,” she says and turns to go.
My stampeding heart leaps into my throat. I lunge for Star, grabbing her wrist. The apartment door closes behind me.
“Wait,” I say. She pauses. “You forgot your shirt.”
She sighs and twists her arm free of my grip. “I can afford a new shirt. Keep them.”
Her voice sounds dejected, like I’ve hurt her. I hate this. I’m not good at flirting or with hookups or with anything like that. I’ve never done it before.
“Wait,” I repeat. “I...I would really like…” Star turns back and arches an eyebrow. God, Maisie, grab your ovaries and woman up! “I would really like it if you came inside.”
“Why?” Star’s impatient, like I’m wasting her time.
And maybe I am. Fuck. This is so hard. I clear my throat. “I don’t know if I’m a lesbian. I’ve never been attracted to anyone before—not a guy or a girl. All I know is that women are beautiful but who doesn’t think women are beautiful, right? It’s just that you’re so cool and interesting and every time I see you, I want to go and sit next to you and hear what your thoughts are about this world. Do you sit at the table in the caf because you like looking at the garden and if so, what’s your favorite part? What do you read? Why do you find it interesting? What are you doing with your notebook that’s always in your hand? Do you think you want to be friends with me?”
“Friends?” She’s taken a step closer.