I feel the need to defend this chapter, but I really want it to stand for itself, so I’ll do that.
Chapter Eight: Going Bump in the Night
September and October rolled by as Misha concentrated on schoolwork. Her classes were going well, and she did pretty good in her first exams. People had always thought she was dim, but when she applied herself, she did well, even if it was exhausting. Working so much on school meant she spent less time attending International Student and LGBTQ events, but she tried to attend a few. She managed to call Shizune and Hisao regularly, and had even managed to arrange a game of Risk with them and Carla after Carla had finished a shift as a cashier at her on campus job.
She made a point to spend time with Lynda, however. Every Friday the two ate an early dinner and watched the movie. Misha had also taken to haunting the “student lounge” on Thursday afternoons, watching her play with Will and Jerry. She didn’t really understand the game, and she spent most of the time watching Lynda, who didn’t seem to mind. Misha found she could be open with Lynda about things, even if she rarely brought up her past- something Lynda rarely did, either.
As the weeks had dragged on, Misha’s hair had finally returned to its old color, and had managed to grow just past her shoulders. She had also managed to lose a few pounds, probably from not eating parfaits the size of her head whenever she was depressed.
As October drew to a close, two thoughts floated around Misha’s mind when she gave them the chance. One, her birthday was coming up. Two, Halloween was approaching. Taking place on a Friday, with her birthday the next day, would hopefully make for a great weekend, and some news from Carla helped her hold that opinion.
After her call to Hisao ended Thursday, Carla came bursting through the front door, which slammed into the wall protector before shutting itself. Still wearing her work clothes, Carla plopped onto the edge of her bed and let out a stream of increasingly angered Italian for the better part of fifteen minutes. After wearing herself out, Misha asked what was wrong.
“My boss wants me to work the Halloween shift after I’ve made all sorts of plans, and no one else wants to take my shift, and I lost my goddamned cell phone and can’t find it!” Carla shouted, surprising Misha.
“Cacchan, I‘m sorry~, that really sucks; when do you get off work tomorrow?” Misha’s English had greatly improved thanks to osmosis and constant talking with Lynda, who was very patient with her. The accent was still an issue, though.
Carla sighed, “ten pm, which isn’t so bad, I guess. I just wanted to get a good start on the partying before the amateurs get hammered and start making a mess.”
Misha thought for a moment, “Well, Dave is throwing a late night party, you could go to that; he doesn’t get off work until ten, also,” Misha’s social network had expanded over the weeks, and the constant migration of students between the co-ed by floor floors hadn’t hurt, either.
Carla nodded, “good point. Thanks, Misha. I was being a bit dramatic, wasn’t I?”
Misha giggled, “maybe a bit~.”
Carla snorted, “well, enough about me, do you have any plans tomorrow?”
Misha shrugged; Henry’s movie night was cancelled so he could attend a party himself, with Will in tow. She had no idea what Lynda was doing, but there was a party on the second floor she wanted to go to, which she mentioned to Carla.
“Good for you. Have fun, meet some cute guys, take advantage of them when their drunk…”
Misha put her hands on her hips, “Cacchan, I am not that kind of girl~,” in more ways than one, possibly.
Carla shrugged, “suit yourself. I was only kidding anyway. Besides,” Carla’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “the way things are going between you and Lynda, I can see where you wouldn’t be ‘that kind of girl.’”
Misha raised an eyebrow, “how are things going between us?”
Carla rolled her eyes, “you eat dinner with her every Friday for two months, you spend most of Thursday nights watching her play with those two dorks, and you think you’re just friends? The girl is obviously interested in more then friendship.”
“You watch too much TV,” Misha said, facing back to her laptop to work on a paper.
“Maybe,” Carla admitted, “but you gotta admit, if I thought about it, odds are really good you two have as well.”
That was… an accurate statement, Misha decided after a while.
Misha examined herself in the mirror Friday afternoon. The party wasn’t a costume party, though a few students wore ones around campus, so she wasn’t worried about that. The knee length orange skirt and matching long-sleeved T-shirt was festive, and after a minute adjustment of a hairclip- with little jack-o-lanterns instead of hearts- she decided she was ready. Nodding to her reflection, she left the bathroom and opened her front door, nearly running into Lynda, who was on the verge of knocking. She was wearing a black top and skirt, both relatively conservative; Lynda’s begrudging acknowledgment of autumn.
“Hi, Lycchan,” Misha said in Japanese; Lynda and Carla had picked up a few words of the language, though their pronunciation was terrible.
“Hi, Michan,” Lynda said, playing along, “going out?”
Misha nodded, “oh, shoot, sorry I didn’t tell you. I just assumed because we weren’t doing the movie night, you wouldn’t want to meet for dinner~.”
Lynda pouted, which sent a few odd emotions running through Misha’s mind and other organs, “and miss our date? Hell, no! So where’re you going?”
Date? Was Carla right? Or was Lynda using the word more casually then Misha thought- English’s nuances still eluded her sometimes.
Deciding to worry about it later, Misha told Lynda about the party, “you wanna come?” she asked, seeing Lynda’s pout remain as she explained.
Lynda’s pout vanished and she smiled broadly, nearly bouncing on her feet in excitement, “sure thing. Just don’t let me drink too much, I don’t want a hangover for your birthday,” Lynda had asked Misha her sign once, and asked about her birthday afterwards. Lynda’s was in April.
“Why, are you planning something?”
Lynda shrugged, “maybe~” she answered, copying Misha’s lilting voice. Raising an eyebrow lightly, Misha left her dorm, shutting the door behind her. She was shocked when Lynda locked arms with her, but didn’t protest. She did, however, mention that she wasn’t parading her sexual orientation around the dorms.
Lynda shrugged, “if anyone asks, tell them I’m drunk and you’re keeping me upright.”
“Doesn’t alcohol interact with your medication?” Misha asked as they ascended the stairs at the end of the hall. Lynda shrugged again.
“Only if I take them,” she said- which she hadn’t, judging by her perky attitude. Misha wondered dimly what her downswings were like, since she always seemed to miss them, but feeling Lynda’s smooth, soft skin against her own was making it hard to think straight.
The party had more or less started; both suite doors were propped open, and men and women meandered between them, indifferent to who was staying where. The party’s hosts, Bill, Ted, John, and Frank, mingled around the group, discreetly offering alcoholic beverages to those who enquired. Misha was only mildly surprised to see Lorraine playing beer pong with a second floor RA.
“Wow, you sure can pick ‘em,” Lynda said, diving into the party and mingling. One of the desks was covered in bagged snacks- cheese puffs, Halloween candy, and salsa and chips. Bottles of soda and a punch bowl sat on the other desk, along with cups, plates, and napkins. Lynda reappeared shortly after she left with two single-serving bottles of whiskey and two vodka strawberry Jell-O shots. Lynda handed one of each to Misha as she opened her own whiskey.
“Happy Halloween,” she said, opening and downing the drink in one swift motion. Misha nodded and sipped hers. It burned its way down her throat, searing it as it descended. Misha started coughing and gagging, while Lynda giggled as she downed the other shot to stop the burning.
“Does my pain amuse~ you?” Misha choked out.
Lynda leaned in and whispered into Misha’s ear, “I like watching your throat when you drink, is all.”
Lynda’s breath so close to her- not to mention what she said- made Misha shiver. Noticing the shiver, Lynda leaned back and raised an eyebrow.
“You okay?” she asked, looking concerned.
Misha nodded, “you just…the whisper~…”
Lynda smiled and leaned in again, “ah, I see. I was worried it was the booze.”
Misha shivered again, goosebumps rising on her skin. Giggling, Lynda wandered away for a while, leaving Misha to wonder what she was up to. Some sort of mind game? She really was like Shizune, except in two major ways.
To Misha’s surprise, Lynda didn’t drink anything more, and neither did Misha, instead eating and talking, and dancing as well, once someone had turned on a radio. Misha didn’t dance much, instead opting to watch Lynda sway and move with the music. When a slow dance came, Lynda immediately dragged Misha in with her, and the two moved around as Lynda led them.
“Having fun?” Lynda asked, whispering in Misha’s ear again.
“Yes… please stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” she asked as she did it again.
“In my ear… you’re making me feel… and you’re my friend~.”
“I could be more than that, you know,” she said, not whispering in her ear, but keeping her voice low as she said it. Misha considered the words as they swayed with the song, Misha becoming increasingly aware of the proximity and joining heat of their bodies. By the time the song ended, Misha felt warm and flushed. Seeing this, Lynda asked if she’d like to leave, since it was late and she looked tired.
Seeing it was eleven, Misha nodded; she was getting better at staying up, but it was still hard, and as the two went downstairs exhaustion started to set in. On the way towards the dorm building’s front door Lynda stopped, “sorry, Misha, can I use your bathroom? Too much punch.”
Misha nodded and led Lynda back to her room. Carla wasn’t back yet, and Misha doubted she would be; when she partied, she usually stayed the night to avoid waking Misha. Misha sat on her bed and thought about Lynda at the party; was she trying to seduce her? Thinking about her whispering, the feeling of the breath rushing past her ear, and the closeness of their bodies as they had danced, made Misha warm in ways that had nothing to do with the dorm room’s temperature.
Lynda came out of the bathroom and looked around briefly for Misha. Seeing her on the bed she raised an eyebrow, “you look comfy,” she said.
Misha nodded, “would you like to join me?”
Lynda shrugged and sat next to Misha. The two stared at each other, neither one speaking, just looking into the other’s eyes.
“Misha,” Lynda said after a while.
“If you want to kiss me, you can. I won’t slap you, or judge you, or disown you, or reject-” Lynda’s speech was cut off as Misha leaned in and kissed her, their lips meeting for the first time. Misha had never kissed a girl on the mouth before, and she found she liked it. A lot. It was soft, and gentle, but oddly firm, too. For a while they stayed like that, their arms limp by there sides, and it was only the need to breathe that separated them.
“How was that?” Misha asked; it was all she could think to say.
“Good,” Lynda said, shaking her head a little to clear her thoughts. Neither of them moved, but eventually Lynda coughed, “I should go.”
She made to move but Misha grabbed her arm, “stay. Please?”
Lynda looked into Misha’s deep, golden eyes for a few moments, evaluating the look within them before nodding. Slowly, she got on her knees across from Misha on the bed.
“Are you sure about this? Henry’ll kill me if he thinks I’m taking advantage of you.”
“I’m sure,” Misha said, and she was. Realizing what their dinners had meant to Lynda, the feeling when she whispered in her ear, and the rush from their bodies closeness while they danced collided within her. She wasn’t sure what it was; love, lust, desire, or simply curiosity. She was sure that Lynda wouldn’t hold it against her, and that was what mattered.
I don’t write erotica, sorry, so you’re stuck with fades to black. The reason I don’t write it is it’s a genre I’m not good at, nothing moral or ethical about it.
There should be a rule about straight men writing lesbian romances…