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I could honestly lose myself for a lifetime in her gleaming green eyes, her curled, light brown hair that moved perfectly in the wind. And those legs. They didn’t hurt either. So perfect, from her long, lean thighs, her tight calves, her pretty, girly painted toes, only outdone by her warm, genuine smile that made you feel like you were the center of the universe. God…but I guess that was Layla, after all.
Maybe I should explain. It was my first time away from home. I was finally out of high school, out of the small town of less than a thousand I had spent my entire life in, knowing everybody and everybody knowing me and all that jazz. Well, actually, it would have been nice if people knew me, or at least noticed me. I wasn’t exactly the prom queen; in fact, I remember skipping my prom (i.e. nobody asked me to go) after the debacle of having to go to homecoming with the boy next door who was weirder than I was, who turned an entirely new and undiscovered shade of red when he couldn’t stop “poking” me in the leg while we slow danced. But damn it, I was sort of pretty in my own right, y’know, in a bookish, cute, short-haired librarian girl-nerd kinda way (see also: “socially awkward adolescence”). So my head was buried deep in required chicklit/flicks. I was way more into drawing and “Ghost World” than I was Dolce or Gabbana. Needless to say I didn’t identify with being a girly girl cheerleader. But part of me did want to experience college life, to be part of the dumb crowd once and a while and have some fun. So moving to the Bay Area was a dream, a chance to maybe start over new, come out of my shell. Yeah, that lasted about 10 seconds after arriving on campus with dad in tow.
“Remember what I said, Francesca?”
“Ugh, no boys,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I know, pop.”
“No boys,” he said as he gave me a hug and kissed me on the forehead. He opened the door of my new dorm room, and, as all good noir film detectives say when they meet their red dress-clad femme fatale for the first time, “There she was…”. Except she was wearing a baggy light blue hoodie, headphones on, apparently rocking out on the air guitar.
“Oh, sorry!” the rocker said as she stoop up and took off her iPod. “I’m Layla, I guess you’re my new roommate?”
“Yes, this is my daughter, Francesca-“
“Frankie,” I interjected, wanting to at least be somewhat cool, as far as first impressions go.
“Well, I guess I should get going,” said my complete dork of a dad after an agonizingly awkward beat and finally sensing my embarrassment. “You two girls stay out of trouble.”
“We will, sir,” said Layla to my surprise. “I’ll make sure of it.” And with a smile he left and closed the door behind him, leaving us to get better acquainted.
“So do you have a last name, Frankie, my dear?”
“De Luca,” I answered a bit shyly, feeling a bit uncool.
“Hey, don’t worry about the parent thing,” she said, as if she could read me like an open book. “Everyone’s new to somewhere sometime, and everyone’s got parents.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“I’m Layla, Layla Naim Zamurrad.”
“Cool, because that’s not a way more interesting name at all…,” I said, trying to be at least somewhat funny.
“Ha. Well, I guess we should get you unpacked,” she said. “You can have this bed.” Layla picked up my suitcase and opened it up, to my apprehension.
“‘kay. Let me guess…art major?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That or film. How could you tell?”
“Because I have never seen so many boring clothes since casino oyna my last roommate,” she laughed. “She practically spent 2 whole years wearing sweats!”
“Dude, you’re wearing sweats!” I said, in defense of my functional, comfy but socially unsexy and boring wardrobe.
“I just came back from a jog, and I always jam out afterwards,” said Layla, still smiling from ear to ear at my expense. I was blushing a bit.
“Mind if I change?” she asked.
“No, it’s cool,” I said as I turned my head, putting my hand over the side of my eyes to block out my peripheral vision.
“You don’t have to turn around,” she said as she pulled off her hoodie. “It’s not like I’ve got anything you don’t have.” I decided to call her bluff and turn my head back around. My eyes immediately glimpsed her flat, hard stomach. I tried my best not to stare.
“Jesus, do all girls in California have a perfect body like you?”
“Just the ones who do 2 hours of yoga and jogging a day, and haven’t had a double cheeseburger in like forever,” she remarked as she took off her sweat pants. Layla was now just standing there, wearing nothing but a black sports bra and a matching thong. Then her slender fingers went up to her hair which she let down to her shoulders. She gave it a quick tease and a toss.
“How about you?” she asked, raising both eyebrows and smiling like a fox.
“You. Your turn. Let’s see.”
“C’mon, you just saw me almost naked. And we’re going to be roommates, so we’ll have to see each other sooner or later.”
“So why can’t it be later?” I asked, stalling, asking myself if this was really going to happen.
“Dude, don’t worry about it. I won’t judge you. Think of it as an ice breaker, or like the first kinda crazy thing you did once you got to college. We’ve all been there.”
“…fine,” I relented as I gave into her nudging. I stood up and took off the plain gray sweatshirt I was wearing. Then I hesitated as my hands moved to take off my t-shirt. I figured it wouldn’t be too bad, kind of like wearing a bikini top at the beach.
“Can I at least keep my jeans on?” I asked.
“Uh uh,” said Layla. “Just do it already. It’s just you and me in here anyway.”
“Ugh.” I undid my belt and unzipped my jeans, pulling them down quickly before kicking them off, just to get it over with.
“Okay. Happy now?”
“Totally. See, that wasn’t so bad. You have kind of a cute body.”
“Pssh. Yeah right. I’m not miss sixpack like you.”
“Y’know, if you want, I could show you a few things. Like, we could work out together. I think you could definitely have a stomach, maybe some legs.”
“Hey, what happened to not judging? And what’s wrong with my legs?!”
“Nothing!” she laughed genuinely. “Don’t be such a girl about it!” We were both laughing, and smiling, and sitting there, in our underwear. I had known Layla for less than half an hour and she had me almost naked, laughing, comfortable, safe, even. And I think it was in that exact moment I fell in love with her. I just hadn’t realized it…yet.
It was getting later in the evening, and we snagged a pizza (cheating on mr. diet) for dinner and took it up to our room. I decided I should probably find out more about my new roommate who had just seen me in my plane-jane bra and boy shorts.
“So what does your name mean?” I asked.
“What, just cause I’m Arabic means my name’s gotta mean something? What kind of racist crap is that?”
“What? No! I canlı casino just thought that… I would never-“
“Dude, you are way too easy,” she laughed, with that infectious laugh of hers that just lit up our room. “I’m totally messing with you. ‘Layla’ means ‘princess.’ ‘Naim’ means ‘comfort’ though it’s technically a guy’s name since my dad wanted a boy, and ‘Zamurrad’ means ’emerald,’ which dates back a long way since it’s sorta rare to have green eyes and it runs in the family.”
“Oh. Well, excuse me and my half Italian, Midwestern sensibilities, Princess Layla,” I said charmingly.
“Ha. Never heard that one before,” she said with her smile. I had been on dates (and by dates, I mean sitting in silence in a movie theater with acne riddled teenage guys) where I hadn’t laughed this much, just sitting around sharing a pizza and hanging out, dressed this time. I was just finding myself feeling so comfortable and drawn to her.
“So what are you majoring in?” I asked.
“Physical therapy, technically” she said. “My dad wants me to be a doctor, but my real passion is music, so I figured if I was a physical therapist maybe I’d have time to do both.”
“Oh, so do you play anything. I mean, besides the air guitar?”
“I play the real guitar. Acoustic. I play gigs sometimes at this small coffee house like a block from here.”
“Wow, because you couldn’t get any cooler…”
“You don’t play anything?”
“I’ve never been good at anything, you know, cool.”
“You’ve gotta be good at something.”
“Outside of reading and writing the occasional story or poem, ‘fraid not.”
“That’s sorta cool…” she said, trying to be somewhat polite.
“…okay. There is like one thing, but I haven’t done it in a while.”
“Ooh. All right, finally something edgy about you.”
“It’s not exactly edgy,” I said as I grabbed a pair of shorts off my bed and went into our bathroom to change. “Watch.”
“What’re you doing in there?” she asked. I stepped out wearing just the shorts and a t-shirt.
“Okay, so, watch this.” I planted my feet about shoulder length apart and bent backward, touching my hands to the ground. Then I raised my legs until I was doing a full handstand, then I landed on my feet, then slowly, doing a split.
“Ah…ta da!” I said, in a little bit of agony.
“Dude, that is awesome!” she said. “I didn’t think for a second you could do that!”
“Yeah, I, ugh, just because I wasn’t a cheerleader didn’t mean I never thought about trying out. Oi. Okay, this hurts.”
“Are you okay?” she asked politely.
“Yeah…yeah, just give me a second,” I said, mustering as much bravado as was womanly possible as I stood back upright, or at least tried to.
“Did you pull something?”
“No, no. It’s just been a while since I’ve done that. Ow.”
“That sounds like a hamstring ‘ow.’ Lemme have a look,” she said as she positioned herself behind me. Why was I feeling so nervous and self conscious? Why was I wondering if my shorts were too short, or if my hair was okay? We were just eating pizza a minute ago and now I had all these stupid, confusing and unfamiliar thoughts in my head.
“Here, lay back,” she told me as she laid me down on her bed and raised my right leg over her shoulder as she began stretching it out. “How does this feel?”
“Um, okay…” was about all I could say. The truth is, it felt really, really good in a way it probably shouldn’t have.
“Turn over, let me massage it for you.”
“You kaçak casino really don’t have to do that-“
“Don’t worry about it. It’s what I’ve been studying to do for like a year now. It’ll be like practice for me. Now turn over.”
I finally relented. I was laying on my stomach, having this really pretty girl massaging my thigh, trying to understand why I was feeling so anxious. What was coming over me?
“There, how does that feel?” she leaned down and asked.
“Um, good, yeah.”
“You actually do have some nice legs.”
“…mmm. Thanks,” I said softly with my eyes closed. It was strange to have someone else’s hands on me, so close to me. It felt like I was being intimate with someone, and it was with a girl, but I didn’t really care. I was losing myself to that growing, blossoming feeling of intimacy. There was this lingering curiosity I couldn’t explain, like part of me was frightened, but part of me wanted her fingers to touch me higher, closer. Then I couldn’t help myself. I let out a soft, quiet moan into her pillow, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Um, are…are you wearing underwear?” asked Layla.
“Oh no,” I thought as I broke out of my trance. I had changed so quickly into my shorts that I hadn’t put on my panties, since I figured I was only going to be doing my so-called gymnastics for a second. But Layla had stopped massaging me. She was sitting upright, her eyes fixed on the slight spot on my crotch area. I had actually gotten a little wet, just barely, but noticeably enough. We both just sat there in silence, for what felt like an hour, in which I felt like dying.
“Shit,” I swore. And I never swear. “Layla, I…god. I…don’t know why…”
“It’s…okay. Um, so, there’s probably something I should tell you, Frankie. I should’ve told you earlier. About me…I’m…I’m a lesbian.”
I was honestly bereft of words.
“The other girls, my last roommate, they weren’t comfortable with rooming with me when I told them, and I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you upfront. But your dad was here and we just sorta started having fun and I didn’t want to scare you away because you’re not from around here and…to be honest I don’t have any friends on campus.”
“I really wasn’t trying to do anything just now, Frankie,” she said with tears starting to well up in her eyes. This was the first time I saw her lose her cool. “I’m really sorry. I just knew you were hurting and I wanted to help and and-“
I kissed her. I leaned in and put my hand under her chin and just kissed her. God help me I had no idea why. I was never attracted to other girls. And now my lips were against hers and all I could think of was how soft they were, and how this was my first real kiss. And it was with her, with Layla, and it felt…right, somehow. Maybe I just wanted to make her feel better.
I opened my eyes and broke our kiss. I was expecting the look of love. Instead, her glistening green eyes were in a state of shock. Neither of us knew what to say, and I thought that maybe I had made the biggest, most embarrassing mistake of my 18-year-old life. That is, until she put her hands on my face and pulled me in closer to hers. She was kissing me back.
I felt her tongue trying to slip pass my lips, so I let her. My heart was racing as her hands brushed my hair off my neck, and I felt her lips start gently kissing my neck.
“Ohh, oh god… Layla?”
“Mmm, yeah?” she asked, between kisses and nibbles on my neck.
“I…I’ve never made out before.”
“Are you sure about that? You’re doin’ pretty good.”
“Um, can…ahh…can you keep doing that?”
“I can, but I think we’re gonna do a lot more than just this tonight,” she whispered coyly in my ear. “Watch.”
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