Jungle (GxG)(Lesbian Story)

♛ 7

"So, where should we start," Maxim asked when I came back with a couple of beers. I offered her one but she declined with the shake of the head. I shrugged my shoulders. The more the merrier for me. Popping off the cap, I took a sip of the beer and positioned myself so I was sitting crisscrossed. "So, what is your favorite color?" I laughed out loud and even though I wasn't looking at Maxim, I could tell she had a questionable look on her face. "Are you already drunk," she asked me.

"It's not like I'm four. I don't really have a favorite color." I looked beside me to see Maxim giving me a face of disbelief. "What?"

"Everyone has a favorite fucking color."

"Well, I don't." Maxim sighed like a child and crossed her arms. "Are you mad at me because I don't have a favorite color?"

"You don't understand, Lavender. Everyone has a favorite color. Some color has to just like make you happy. Is it red? Orange? Green? Blue? Purple? Fucking lavender!? I mean, it's your name! It has to be your favorite color!" I didn't pay Maxim any mind as I drank from my beer bottle. No color caught my eye. Colors were just...colors. You see them every day. There was nothing interesting about them. Favorite colors were just preferences for preschoolers to either bond over or hate each other for.

"Why is knowing my favorite color, which is non-existent, even important," I asked Maxim as I finished off my beer. Sitting the empty bottle on the floor, I reached for another one but Maxim smacked my hand away. "What the hell!?" How dare she deny me a beer? It was nothing but pure boredom hanging out with her. She was really chewing me out for not having a color preference.

"I don't want you to get drunk and end up telling me lies," she explained. I rolled my eyes at her and now I was the one with my arms crossed like a child. "It's important for me to know what your favorite color is, because, well, it just is. All of my fans know that my favorite color is black. So, if my fans know my favorite color, I think it's pretty important that I know my girlfriend's favorite color and that she knows mine." I rolled my eyes at the usage of the word "girlfriend." She made it sound so permanent, as if I was going to be her girlfriend for the rest of her life. She wished.

"Your fans are fucking lame for knowing your favorite color. Do they know your bra size too? Weirdos," I mocked a bit spitefully. I'm not sure why I was being a bit bitchy. Actually, it was probably because I haven't gotten laid in a while and every time Maxim and I started to do something, it got interrupted.

"My fans aren't lame," Maxim said, her voice drenched with offense. "I have you know that I have the most badass fans in the world. You-you don't even have fans. No one likes you! Your mom is lame just for giving birth to you." I gasped and turned to face the smug looking bitch. "I take that back! Your mom's not lame. It's not her fault that her daughter turned out to be a loser! Your mom is so much cooler than you!"

"I'm not a loser!"

"Prove it!" Maxim quirked that stupid eyebrow up at me and she had a smirk on her face, as she waited for me to answer her. The bad thing about all of this was that I didn't have a comeback. There was no answer. How could I prove that I was cool? I literally did nothing cool with my life. Maxim was a professional MMA fighter, and I was a professional at doing absolutely nothing. "I'll make it easier for you. List some of your skills," the fighter said as she stared at me attentively.

Once again, I was at a loss of words. Maxim had that arrogant look on her face and I knew she was ready to mock whatever came out of my mouth. Therefore, I didn't put any thought about what I was saying. I decided to be truthful about the very limited things that I excelled at. "I'm very seductive. I could make you do anything I want you to if I really wanted to." Maxim scoffed at me but I continued talking. "I know how to please my partner in the bedroom, male or female. When it comes to drinking, out of all my friends, I think I can handle my liquor the best. If you would hand me a joint or a bong, I could do some sick smoke tricks. I'm pretty strong-minded because every so often I might dabble in a hard drug, but I've never became addicted." The girl stared at me blankly and I blushed a bit. My skills were probably nothing near hers. All of my skills were morally wrong, or looked down upon.