psych- Leighton Murray

IIII

Emerson woke up with an awful pounding in her head even though she hadn't been drunk the night before. It took her a second before she remembered waking up in the middle of the night to deal with her drunk-as-shit roommates.

Bela had stumbled in with puke all over her dress, giggling uncontrollably. Whitney was tipsy, but not enough to be throwing up. She gave Emerson a sheepish grin before collapsing on the couch in a heap. Kimberly was a sad drunk, bawling as soon as Emerson asked her if she was okay. It took Emerson over two hours to get the girls cleaned up and in bed.

She checked her phone for a text from Leighton, and then looked over at Leighton's bed, which was empty.

"Oh shit." Emerson groaned. Of course, Leighton had been hooking up with some dude all night.

With her day already ruined, Emerson rolled out of bed to get a quick shower before her first class. She slipped her shower shoes on and got in and out as fast as possible. Public bathrooms horrified her. All of the germs and piss and whatever the hell else was in there made her OCD scream. She wrapped her towel around her waist and walked back to the door. She opened the door and saw a disheveled Leighton holding a bag of her things.

"Oh." was all Leighton said. Emerson clung to her towel for dear life, hoping that if she didn't move, Leighton wouldn't see her. Leighton raked her eyes down Emerson's wet body before pulling them off frantically.

"God damnit Leighton, where the fuck have you been?" Kimberly walked into the living room.

"I do not have to disclose that information." Leighton looked down at her feet, a pink tint coloring her cheeks.

"We thought you got kidnapped!" Kimberly cried, throwing her hands up dramatically.

"I know, as a pretty blonde woman, I am just the type for that." she grinned.

"Fuck, Leighton, we were worried about you. You could have at least texted us when you were done fucking him." Emerson grumbled, walking into her room to throw on a quick outfit. She pulled on a pair of sweats and her favorite worn grey hoodie. She felt the fabric, trying to calm herself down before she went back into the living room. She opened the door to Bela stumbling out of her room.

"Oh shit. Somebody got laid!" she squealed.

"Care to explain anything, Leighton? "Emerson crossed her arms.

"Oh my god. I do not have to detail all of my personal life for you guys."

"No, but you shouldn't leave us fucking hanging. You ditched us and then proceeded to leave all of us on delivered. Do you really think you get to be fucking angry? God damnit you are entitled." Emerson scoffed. "I have class." she picked up her bag and stormed out angrily.

Leighton stared a hole into the floor by her feet. She knew that last night was a one-time thing (she'd made sure of it by blocking the redhead she'd slept with) but she still felt bad. She didn't know why, it's like she said, it wasn't any of her roommate's business. She didn't feel bad that Kimberly had used all of her data plan or that Whitney had a 'boy crisis", she only felt bad that Emerson was so upset.

For some reason, all Leighton wanted to do was run after her and apologize. Instead, she chose to grab an apple and walk into her room to change for the day.

Emerson sat through her cognitive neuroscience class, taking light notes (God knows she wasn't paying enough attention for anything else.) She was overwhelmed and she felt like she wanted to peel her skin off.

She waited for the professor to dismiss her so that she could run to the women's center as fast as possible. She just needed a quiet place to sit and think, maybe cry a little, and be with people who were like her.

"So, with someone with paranoid schizophrenia, you can see the prefrontal lobe looks different, darker than a healthy patient. I want each of you to do a short one to two-page essay about why you think this is and what it means in this case. Turn it in before the end of the week. You're free to go." Emerson left as soon as he finished his sentence, not caring about the fat-ass homework assignment she had to do.

She pulled her phone out of her bag, and looked at her Essex map (she got lost easily), making her way toward the women's center.

It didn't take her long before she came to a small building with pride flags hanging from the windows and Black Lives Matter signs stuck on the lawn outside. She felt a wave of relief wash over her.

This is where she wanted to be.

She walked in quietly, hoping no one would notice her. It didn't end up mattering how quiet she was, because the damn door had a bell on it.

"Hey! Welcome to the Essex Women's Center. I'm Alicia, she/her. What about you?" a short woman with a hot-ass haircut asked.

"Oh, uh, I'm Emerson. she/her. It's nice to meet you." Emerson looked around at the tattered couches and different pride flags.

"You seem stressed. Don't worry, we don't bite." Alicia chuckled, leading Emerson over to the couches. Emerson put her backpack down carefully next to her feet as she sat down.

"I've just never been to a place like this before."

"A place like what?" Alicia waved her hands around. "This gay?" Some of Emerson's anxiety faded away as she heard what Alicia said. She chuckled lightly at the joke.

"Yeah. Where I live in New York City, the GSA stands for Good Sex Administration. It's just a weird name for a sex education club. Which is a weird concept in general." Emerson giggled, thinking of the poor guidance counselor who had to try to recruit kids every year.

"That checks out." Alicia grinned. "So, what brings you, a straight-looking girl, to this gay ass place."

"Oh, I'm like, super gay." Emerson blushed, "I kissed my male best friend in middle school and almost puked. Turns out, we are both super gay."

"That also checks out." Alicia laughed.

"I guess I just wanted to come here and spill, sort of. I kind of have a fat-ass crush on my roommate, and I'm pretty sure she's straight, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Oh, honey," Alicia leaned back into the couch, "we have a lot to discuss."