(Lesbian) Heartbreak Hotel and Other Shitty Love Songs (LGBT) (GirlxGirl)

Track Three: All or Nothing -Sam Smith

"Shelby? Somebody's here for you," My mom's voice calls up the stairs. I feel all of the color drain out of my face and am instantly hit with a wall of anxiety. The lilt of her voice is marred with the friendly, polite tone she has reserved for uncomfortable situations. I'm sure we're all familiar with the tone; y'know, the one your mom uses when pretending to be excited about seeing a friend from high school, or talking to that bougie mom from the elementary school that she can't fucking stand? Yeah, that one. It's just a little scarier when she's greeting the girl you're supposed to be going on a date with.

    Fuck.

    Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

    "Coming," I mutter, my throat going inexplicably dry. I had expected Bethany to do what everyone else in the fucking world does and text me when she arrived— who knew she was going to come knocking on the goddamn door! I urgently take one last glance in the mirror, half-heartedly trying to wipe the black makeup that had pooled under my eyes. Shit-- am I really about to do this? Go on this fucking date just to prove a damn point? I run my hands through my hair once more-- volume is power. As I grab my purse from it's hook, I realize that if I go down there and wrap my arms around this girl, my mom will never look at me the same way again. That awkward, uncomfortable tone will never leave her voice and the sterility of my family will start to burn.

This is ridiculous. All I have to do is tell Bethany to go fuck herself and her heart will smash into a thousand pieces at my feet-- she's probably already smitten with me. I don't have to go through with this asinine plan, Jesus Christ.

    With an air of "fuck it", I make my way down the stairs, violently aware of my heart's abusive relationship with my ribcage. All I have to do is call her a dyke and tell her to get the fuck out of my house-- that's it. It'll all be over. I cringe at every creaking step making my approach all too obvious. My eyes instantly land on her. Bethany stands in front of the door, laughing over something my mom was saying, looking all too cool in a leather jacket and jeans. As she comes up for air, she makes eye contact with me and, ladies and gentlemen, I felt my heart skip a motherfucking beat, and I instantly know I can't do it. I don't want to break her heart, I don't ever want to be the reason that radiant smile falls from her lips.

    "Shelby," Bethany breathes as I step off the stairs, her voice heavy with a wonder that normally would have caused me to cringe if I wasn't looking at her the same exact way.

    "You didn't tell me you were having a friend over, Shelby, I would've made spaghetti," My mom smiles, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She thinks any special occasion is a cause for pasta. That might seem ridiculous to you, but trust me-- my mom cooking pasta is about as homey as it gets around here; our grocery list has begun to look more like a rotation of places to order takeout over the last few years.

"Oh, that's alright, we're not staying, but thank you, Mrs. Matlin," Bethany smiles.

"Doctor!" My mother flinches, a wrinkled, tight smile forming on her lips. "Doctor, Matlin," The woman takes every goddamn moment to remind everyone of her MD.

"Right," Bethany says, discomfort settling in. She reaches out to grab my hand and I instinctively tear my arm away. Bethany quickly disguises a look of hurt with one of are you fucking kidding me? I shrug slightly in response and grab my dad's denim jacket from the coat rack.

What? The jacket felt appropriate. Everyone knows denim attracts women.

"Okay, well you ladies have fun! Don't stay out too late and don't go spending the night over at any boys' houses," My mom gives me a misguided wink.

"Don't worry about that," Bethany mutters under her breath as I give her a final shove straight out the door. I glare at her, but find myself almost laughing. Almost.