Where I stood

Emily, 15, finds herself questioning her sexuality after her break-up with fairly long term boyfriend, Dean.Meeting Lexi confused Emily more than anything had ever done in her life. Did she have feelings for her? Could Lexi ever feel the same way?

Emily sets out on a path of self discovery, discovering romance along the way, where she never thought romance could lie. Young and innocent, Emily learns that there is more to love that she had ever known before, and sometimes you should expect the unexpected.

Based on a true story.


3. Chapter 3


                 ‘Can I help you?’ Lexi stared down at me with a smile. My eyes met hers and I remained speechless. I had frozen. I didn’t know this girl. She looked amazing and a horrible feeling of unworthiness flooded through my body. Dean obviously downgraded when he lost her. She went to Dean’s old school. It was a private school; Queen Elizabeth’s VI. She had blue eyeliner around her green eyes, an odd match but it made her eye’s ‘pop’, I guess was the only word for it. They looked so, menacing almost. As if, if you were to say anything to her out of place she would murder you, and creepily enjoy every second. It was hot. Her tousled hair perfectly outlined her face.

                ‘Hello?’ she continued. ‘Oh I’m so sorry’, I explained, ‘I was in my own little world’.                 ‘I figured, no worries, where do you want to go?’ she asked as if sitting here was not what we were going to do. I felt unwilling to actually move, but my tea had now gone cold and couldn’t think of an excuse to remain where I was.                 ‘Perhaps we should hang in the park? It’s a nice day.’ I suggested. One of her eyebrows lifted with disgust. Was I too childish? This girl seemed to be so ‘cool’ and I seemed pretty damn lame in comparison.                 ‘No, I know somewhere cooler.’ She grabbed my hand and yanked me out of my seat, didn’t even check if I had paid or not, luckily I had. She whisked me away and my legs flailed behind me, they had not quite prepared themselves. I saw her backpack. I hadn’t expected a 15, nearly 16 year old school girl to carry a backpack outside of school; most of us were reluctant to carry them even during the school day. It was black and red checked, and somehow set off her mismatched look with a certain hobo-like charm. As if she was set to go to a festival.

                She held my hand and we half ran to where she had picked out for us. We arrived at castle ruins in the centre of the town. How strange I had not noticed them before. To me it was just a gateway, but to her it was an architectural beauty where she would spend her days half asleep on the inside curb watching strangers pass through. The sun beat through the medieval slitted windows, and her hair shined in the light. I found myself thinking an awful lot about her appearance, how cool she acted, how I’d really like to be her friend. She seemed like someone who would interest me and get me away from the dullish hole that I called ‘home’.

                She walked me through her wristbands, bracelets and ribbons. There seemed to be a story so captivating behind each colour, and trim of lace. The red one she had found at a concert. The blue polka-dotted one was part of a guitar strap that her friend no longer wanted. The black ‘shag bands’, as they were called back then, were for people she wanted to sleep with; one for each person. I noticed she wore 4. I considered asking her who they were but thought it too much of an intrusion for the first meeting. She enticed me with her stories. I felt myself wanting to tell her some of mine own, but none came to mind, and I was fairly happy just listening to her voice, watching her lips, the way her eyes lit up when she was talking about a happy moment and I realized, she may seem cool, and uncaring, but by the way she spoke about things it was obvious to see that she did care. She cared an awful lot, and I could see through her persona that she carried. She seemed to have broken it, as if just for me, like she wanted me to see her as something more than a heartless rebel.

                I saw another bracelet that she had decided not to explain. It was a rainbow coloured strip of ribbon, with words on the inside that I could not quite see enough to make out. Her hands slid towards mine and my legs braced themselves for being viciously yanked from their comfy position into a run once more, but her hand never grasped mine, it just lay on the curb on which we had sat gently caressing the small bumps on the floor.

                ‘I’ve always loved this place’ she explained, ‘it makes me feel at one with the history of this town, but that’s enough of that. We need to go shopping.’ I stood up by myself and set the pace. I was not up for running across town, even in my sensible trainers. Once stood next to me, I could see that Lexi was very tall. She towered above me making me feel small and insignificant. She must have noticed it too as she pointed out that I looked ‘adorable, so petite, no wonder Dean liked you.’ She confused me. Everything I knew about Dean pointed towards him being attracted to smaller girls, not girls who could have easily matched his height and/or exceeded it. She walked me to Republic. A shop in the large shopping centre in the middle of the Southampton high street. It sold surfer style clothing with labels such as; ‘Bench’ and ‘SoCal’. She picked up a short floral dress and asked me to accompany her into the changing rooms. She needed a female perspective on whether or not to buy the dress. On the way she picked up a dress, it was black and grey patterned in an odd fashion with buttons down the front, it had shoe-lace straps and a dipped neck line that would be fairly revealing.

                ‘I want you to try this one on as well. It will suit you.’ She handed me the dress and once again grabbed my hand and pushed through the crowds of people acting like animals herding around water, but instead of water they were thirsty for generic, over-priced fashion. We got to the changing room and grabbed one of the ‘2’ signs. The signs that look like coat hangers that you could hang in the cubicle and had to take with you to number how many items you were going in with and for security to make sure you came out with the same amount. We both entered one changing room. It was large, I think it was supposed to be used by mothers and daughters but the shop assistant didn’t stop us so I figured that we weren’t disallowed to enter together.

                She turned away from me as she undressed almost immediately, and began frantically trying to slip the dress over her head, until the realisation that there was a zip at the back she had to undo hit her.

                ‘Can you help me?’ I moved towards her, staring at her back. She was skinnier than she had first appeared, but still not too skinny. Her black lace bra laid neatly part way down her back and waist perfectly curved outwards towards her hips. I pulled the zip down and helped her untangle herself; gently I pulled it past her hips and then zipped up the back.

                I felt strange. Something came over me that I had not felt before. I could not tell if I was jealous of her figure and wanted it for myself, or if I purely wanted to be her, or if I was actually generating a crush on her. Her. A female. I was female myself. She was a female. Doubt drowned my mind. I was being ridiculous. I was straight. I’d never really heard of women who loved women. I’d never been exposed to lesbians as a rule. I was being ridiculous. The only word for it at the time. Ridiculous. I just thought she was cool. I wanted to see her again and get to know more about her. Her life seemed to interest me, captivate me, and consume me. Everything about her was everything that I wanted to be, instead of a boring, shut in at the age of 15, the boring age of 15, when everything’s illegal. The only thing I’d achieved in life was being able to buy the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

                 The only ‘taboo’, as my Mother would have put it, I had been exposed to was my gay uncle. My Mother had no issue with Alex, her brother, and did not seem outwardly homophobic, but I could tell that inside she was. She had never been comfortable with Alex since he came out and I could see it in her eyes. She was not as open minded as she’d made out. I guess the huge clue lay in the day Alex came out, I overheard my Mother saying; ‘I have no issue with gay people, but when its’ so close in the family, I find it disgusting.’ To this day I still don’t think she knows that I heard that.

                  She turned towards me and asked me about the dress.

                  ‘Would you be wearing it with those shoes? And the backpack?’ I asked curiously. ‘Of course, what else?’ Her answer made me wonder; I looked her up and down and realized this was her style. Girly but with a twist, it had a heavy rocky feel to it. I loved it, but I felt saying this would sound insincere after my previous curiosity. ‘Not what I would’ve thought, but I like it.’ She smiled at me and requested that I got changed into the dress she had picked out for me, I nodded. She turned me around and lifted my top over my head slowly. She put her hand on my lower back as she reached across for the dress that was hanging next to her clothes. Her touch felt, gentle and careful, as if she were holding something so precious that the slightest rough touch may have caused it to shatter. Her hand traced up my back till it held the dress over my head.                 ‘Hands up’. I obliged. She ran her hands gently across my ribs, down my waist, and hips and the dress was on. She twirled me round holding onto my hips.                 ‘Amazing.’

                 Lexi hugged me, ‘C’mon Emily, lets buy them’. I hadn’t even checked it in the mirror before agreeing with a shy nod. I unzipped her dress once more, dragging my eyes from her body, I turned to undress myself. Exiting the changing rooms we stepped towards the counter and the herds of people parted to make way for us. We paid and left.

                 The rest of our meet was fairly normal. We sat in shops and laughed at people walking past that rushed around whilst time stood still for us. I sat watching her, whenever she looked away. I was enticed by her. She seemed elegant, her form was beautiful, the curvature, the subtle boney structure, her hair gently shining. How could I be thinking these things? I shook my head and the thoughts fell out of my head momentarily, but they wouldn’t retreat for long. I found myself longing to press my lips to hers. She was straight, as far as I knew, and so was I. This is ridiculous. Although ridiculous as it seemed, the colours flooded through my monochrome mind as I drowned myself in thoughts. Thoughts of her, her hands scaling my back previously, the soft, sweet floral scent that lingered still from her perfume.

                  I sat with my legs dangling off a wall that we had perched on outside once we had left the shops after closing time. I realized I had to leave early that night. Around 6pm I had gymnastics. I apologized and Lexi and I exchanged our goodbyes with a hug. Her arms embraced me and I found myself face to face with her breasts, almost smothering me. Her tallness was intimidating but I felt strangely safe. The kind of safeness you only feel within a man’s touch. The kind of safeness you should only feel within a man’s touch. I felt stupid feeling these feelings after only a day of knowing Lexi in person, but nevertheless they devoured me. Was I different? I tried to shake the thoughts and feelings once more; I had to leave for gymnastics. The only place in which I truly socialized.

                   I had acquaintances at school; Claire, a still innocent girl, yet to experience and change, Jess, a fairly nice girl, but exaggerated too much for her own good. Finally there was David. David was great, but we’d recently drifted, thanks to being placed in different classes. I like to think that I had many friends, but these were the main three. Although nice, I didn’t feel comfortable talking to them about such private matters and we never met up outside of school. They were school acquaintances and that was that, considering that we could only see each other in lunch breaks meant gymnastics was the only time I had to really socialize.

                   I arrived at gymnastics that night thinking about her still. How she moved. How every innocent brush of skin left me shivering. Rich, the friend who had gotten me into gymnastics approached me. ‘Hey Emily! Good day?’ He smiled. Rich had always been a good friend. I’d only recently got to know him better that year, he’d asked me to help him learn guitar. It seemed like everyone in my life was playing guitar or trying to. I had been learning for 6 years at that time, but only to learn the basics, I focussed more on my singing. However, I could talk to Rich about anything, but even this seemed like something that was better left for now.

                  The whole 3 hours of gymnastics passed and I felt my muscles aching. Why had I agreed to walk around town all day knowing that I had gymnastics which was agony at best for my poor unstrengthened muscles?  

                   Sleep. Sleep hit me like a brick. My head hit the pillow with all the force of a 10 ton anvil. 

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