A Little Too Not Over You (Lesbian Story) - BOOK 1

Chapter 8

Bella, unlike Lori who's a tomboy, dressed and looked like a boy (ha! told you that Yes or No could relate to me) was standing at my door; not in girly clothes, just normal teenage stuff. I'm appalled.

"I've come to pick you up." She said oh so casually.

"Obviously," I raised an eyebrow at her.

She tipped back and forth, "so can I come in?"

"I don't know, can you?" I asked.

She shrugged.

"I haven't showered yet." I said.

"I can help with that," she replied.

I'm lying of course, hoping that she'll go away or say something like "I'll come later then," and stuff but she's still here standing at my door like a lost puppy waiting to be invited in.

"How you know my house?" I looked outside, up and down the street. "Have you been stalking me? Is this part of your game?" I squinted at her.

She looked at me then laughed.

I panicked, "what's so funny?"

She shook her head, "Nothing." She smiled, a pretty smile at me then handed me a bag. "Breakfast."

I nodded, "come in." I said and opened the door wider.

No, it wasn't the food that got her in. More like my nosy neighbor and the nonstop 21 questions that kept being asked back and forth. I figured that letting her in would make things easier on both of us, but what surprised me more was that not only did she knew where I live, she also knew what my favorite beverages were. Seriously, who's this girl?

"Kiss me," she blurted out and I almost choked on hot chocolate.

"No," I barked, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

"I don't see why not, we kissed before."'

"Hey!" I exclaimed, "you took that from me."

"Should I do it again?" She leaned on the kitchen counter in order to reach me.

All thoughts were going bangers, flashing signs were out of control, and I'm wondering where she got the nerve, or was it confidence? I'm not sure anymore, I'm not used to this, she's so straightforward a-a-and ...

"Don't be selfish," I turned away. "I don't even know you, nor are we friends and then you came up with this game of yours." I turned back towards her, "Which by the way I have no idea what's that about."

I looked at her fiercely. "Why are you doing this?"

"I can't tell you that yet." She said.

"Get out!" I shouted, "Now or else."

"Or else what?" She took my wrist in her hand and pulled hard and I almost hurt. "I want you to remember, no, I need you to remember. I need you to know what I know and feel what I feel. We're not just friends, you and I, we never were."

"L-let go of me," I cried, alerted now.

"Am I just a friend?" She asked, begging me even.

"I don't even know you."

"I don't believe that." She said to me.

"Bella, please." I pleaded with my eyes, my cry but still no effect.

She looked at me then, with that same pretty smile before, she raised her hand and stroke my cheek. I'm not sure why but it hurt me to the core to see her that way, sad, broken and unhappy; to see that like me, she too was pretending and for some reason, I wanted to reach and hold her but I can't, I won't because through all that, there's also pain and I don't want to cause more of that by getting her hopes up.

The front door opened then and just like that the spell was broken.

"I'm sorry," she cleared her throat and so did I.

"No, you're not." I massaged my wrist. "Will you leave now?" I asked.

She apologized again and left me stranded in the kitchen, I told myself that I won't cry but once again I lied.

I got in bed that day and cried myself to sleep.