Knowing Her ( Norminah)

--CHAPTER 1--

There were three truths to Normani Hamilton, Dinah knew:

1. Meeting her their sophomore year of college was a stroke of mere chance.

2. Becoming her friend by the end of their junior year was an active choice.

3. Falling in love with her by the time graduation rolled around...falling in love with her was an inevitability.

There were three truths to Normani Hamilton, and Dinah had them memorized and etched into every crevice of her skull, swearing to herself—promising herself—these truths would never in any way influence her relationship with the brunette. And they don't.

She was practiced in the art of hiding the depths of her feelings for the medical student.

She knew that when Normani was drunk, she tended to become more outgoing, louder, talkative—tended to say painful things like how much she needed Dinah, how much she appreciated Dinah, how much she loved Dinah.

She knew that after a particularly hard day, Normani liked to call her, how her guards went down for just a moment and things like 'I miss you' slipped from her lips.

She knew that when they got together, especially in environments that Normani knew Dinah wouldn't be comfortable in, Normani would press against her side, never moving far away—never once asking if the heat of her skin bothered Dinah more than the heat of the bar. (Dinah knew that Normani got particularly handsy on these nights, yet somehow she never found the strength to say anything.)

Dinah was practiced in the art of hiding her feelings for the medical student. She knew to avoid Normani when she was drunk. Knew to text Normani rather than chat with her on the phone on the days her guards were down. Knew to wear clothes that would make it impossible for her to feel Normani's skin against her own, knew that the easiest way to keep Normani's hands (her soft hands, igniting miniature flames against Dinah's skin wherever they brushed, driving her mad, driving her past all her limits, making her want to stop fighting, stop pretending, stop, stop, stop, stop) was to buy her another drink, occupy her with talk of the men in the bar, asking which one she preferred—all the while pretending that this didn't send shards of ice through her heart, that the fire against her skin spluttered out with nothing more than a whimper, that all her guards and protections flailed for a moment before regrouping and reforming and coming back stronger.

It was always easy, because Dinah had known Normani for five years. It was always easy, because medical school kept Normani busy, kept them out of bars, out of each other's apartments, out of each other's hair. Because Dinah spent more time reading and studying, couldn't and wouldn't answer Normani's calls. (She didn't think about how the current distance between them made things easier, she didn't think about why they've been so distant, she didn't—she can't—think about that.)

It was always easy, until it wasn't.

"It's important, Dinah Jane. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't." (There were three truths to Normani Kordeu: 1. Meeting her was a stroke of mere chance.)

"I know. I just...I don't understand."

"You made the most sense." (Three truths: 2. Becoming her friend was an active choice.)

"Because I'm the only one who'd agree?"

"Because you're my best friend. Because I trust you...because you were believable. Acceptable." (Three truths: 3. Falling in love with her...falling in love with her was inevitable.)

"Whatever you need, Normani."

"It's only two weeks. And all the wine you could possibly want."

"Like I said. Whatever you need."