Sleeping with the Frenemy (10 page)

I wish I still had long enough hair to pull back in a ponytail
. Deborah grimaced as she played with her hair.

Christ, I'm going to puke.
Sitting down on the toilet seat, she held a hand over her churning stomach. She began to nibble on her pinkie nail and had to stop biting before she tore it off. She really needed to be in more control and stop this new nasty habit she'd picked up ever since she left Nevada. Taking in deep breaths, she lifted up the skirt of her new dress, loving the way it brushed against her bare legs.

She rose up from her seat and twirled slowly around the room. Her skirt flared out and she fixed the spaghetti strap falling down her arm. She also left the top button undone since the bodice was a bit constricting. When she first had tried it on she noticed the tightness, happy she'd put on more weight and didn't look as skeletal as she once had been. It made sense since she was eating all the foods she wasn't allowed to eat over the past four years.

“I've really got to do something with this hair.” Deborah grabbed a short, spiky piece and picked up the sparkling pink butterfly hair clip Bridgette had urged her to buy.

Smiling, Deborah put it in her hair, close to the side of her left ear. Perfect! Just like the day had been with Bridgette.

Bridgette had given her a lovely tour of Woodberry Creek, going as far as to introduce her to many of the people and business owners. Deborah greeted them with restraint at first, but since Bridgette's joy was contagious, she enjoyed chatting with her new neighbors. By mid-afternoon, Deborah was on a first-name basis with some, the names she could remember, and accumulated bags filled with more items for her house, as well as clothes and trinkets for her hair Bridgette helped her pick out.

Finally Deborah admitted how tired she was, and without any argument, they grabbed her paint and headed home to relax for a few hours before they headed off to the dance.

Deborah's stomach rolled again and she groaned. The last time she'd danced was at her wedding, and even then she had two left feet. Maybe she could sit off to the side and watch the festivities until the fireworks went off.

The doorbell released a sharp ring and Deborah took one last look at her reflection in the mirror. Her face no longer looked gaunt, and even though the shadows under her eyes were still there, they weren't as prominent as before.

When the bell went off a second time, she grabbed her purse, pulled on her white sandals, and walked down the stairs to meet her new friend.

Yes, a friend. Bridgette is my friend, that's all.

Deborah glanced out the peephole. Smiling, she opened the door to Bridgette, who wore a short denim skirt above the knees with a bright gold belt around the waist and a white tube top with red glittery dots across her chest. Her hair was a riot of red curls held back with a headband to match her belt.

“Don't you look like a firework?” Deborah teased and ducked her head after giving Bridgette a thorough stare.

“Wow, Sharon, you're beautiful,” Bridgette whispered, and when Deborah glanced up again, Bridgette licked her lips and stretched her hand out. She remained still as Bridgette fixed the shoulder strap that fell again. When her hand dropped, Deborah pressed her fingers over her shoulder, where her skin tingled.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Deborah said when she found her voice again. For some reason her mouth had gone dry.

“Back at ya.” Bridgette slid her hands in her skirt pockets and rocked back on her heels. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” Deborah pulled the door closed behind her. After she locked it, she climbed down the stairs with Bridgette beside her. Their bare shoulders brushed against one another and she stopped a whimper from erupting.

The moment they reached the sidewalk, barks from Bridgette's house rang out. Deborah giggled when she noticed Rotquel leaning up against the front window.

“Ah, the poor girl misses you,” Deborah said.

Bridgette rolled her eyes. “She hates being locked up. I usually put her out in the backyard, but I'm afraid she'll go crazy when the fireworks go off.” Bridgette waved as they walked past her frowning next-door neighbor standing on her porch. “Hey, Mrs. Heckel. How's it going? Do you plan to go to the dance and see the fireworks?”

The older woman compressed her lips in a straight line. “I plan to, if only to get away from your dog's annoying yapping.”

“You know Rotquel will quiet down in a few minutes.” Bridgette gave Deborah a wink.

“I need a drink,” the irritated woman grumbled loudly and went back inside her house.

Deborah covered her mouth as she laughed. “She really doesn't like Rotquel.”

“She's all talk.” Bridgette flapped her hand in the air. “I just ignore her. I've caught her throwing pieces of meat over the fence for Rotquel and overheard her giving Rotquel compliments when she thinks I'm not listening.”

“That's too funny,” Deborah said as they crossed the street.

Bridgette bumped her arm with Deborah's. “I know Rotquel would love to see you again. How about after the fireworks, you stop in to say hello to her?”

“O-okay,” Deborah said slowly, wondering what else Bridgette had planned other than visiting her dog.

Deborah stared out of the corner of her eye at Bridgette, who hummed under her breath. She waved at people standing in front of their houses and called out greetings to some. Her face was open and so innocent looking that Deborah decided she'd never be the type to do something too deceitful.

“Hey you, why so silent?” Bridgette bumped into her, this time her fingers coming in contact with hers. When Bridgette linked their hands and swung their arms, Deborah joined along.

“I was just thinking it's been so long since I've been to a dance. I can't dance to save my life. It's embarrassing,” Deborah admitted as she heard live music off in the distance.

Bridgette gave her hand a squeeze. “Don't worry. I'll make sure you don't embarrass yourself.”

Deborah nodded, knowing Bridgette would be by her side the entire time to make sure she didn't fumble.

* * * *

The bathroom wall was cool against her back. Deborah closed her eyes and gulped in air. She'd almost ruined everything and panicked. Bridgette had introduced her to both her father and uncle, where she proceeded to tell them what an incredible graphic artist she was, even without seeing any of her supposed amazing work.

“Shit. Why didn't I think of some other profession?” Deborah moaned and covered her face. She came up with the first thing that had come to her mind and wanted to impress Bridgette, who was an artist herself. And now Deborah was screwed. She'd never thought word would spread and people would want to hire her to create their web pages, including updating the sites of both the police and mayor's office.

Her head throbbed painfully and she turned to lean over the sink, closing her mouth to stop from vomiting. Everything had been going so well! She really enjoyed meeting Bridgette's brother, Bryan, and even her parents who, although they seemed overly interested in Bridgette's private life, were sweet and friendly people—much like their daughter.

Bridgette, the one Deborah wanted to kiss desperately and take to her bed—tasting her generous breasts, stomach, hips, and pussy lips that would—

“Sharon? Are you feeling okay?”

Deborah turned upon hearing Bridgette saying her name and feeling a warm palm on her back. She shook her head as she leaned back against the sink, facing a worried-looking Bridgette.

“I think I had one too many beers,” Deborah said lamely and fanned her face. She scanned the room, glad no one else had come upon her.

Bridgette tore away some paper towels from the wall and wet them under the sink. “I grew concerned when you suddenly said you had to use the bathroom and rushed away. You were gone for such a long time. Here, sit down and rest for a moment.” She pulled Deborah by her arm and sat her in a wooden patio chair, pressing her head down and placing the cool, wet towel over the back of her neck.

“What if someone comes inside?” Deborah asked into her lap. Bridgette kept her one hand over the towel while her other petted her hair.

“So what if someone comes in? Everyone else is getting settled in to watch the fireworks.”

“Shoot. We never got to dance like you wanted,” Deborah lamented and lifted her head back up. Her face was in line with the edge of Bridgette's chest.
What if she leaned forward and laid her head there as Bridgette continued playing with her hair?

“Don't worry about it. I'll take a rain check,” Bridgette replied in a soft voice and her other hand came around, making circles along the sides of Deborah's head.

Deborah moaned. Her eyes flickered as Bridgette massaged her crown. “I'm sorry for freaking out back there. Sometimes I have panic attacks and don't do well in crowds,” she explained, hoping Bridgette believed her lie.

“Stop apologizing. I know you're…shy and not comfortable with people. No one remarked on you leaving. I only noticed you were upset because I care for you.”

Care for me?
Deborah's eyes went wide as she stared up at Bridgette's face. “You've only known me for a few days. How can you care for me already? It's too soon…” Her voice drifted away as Bridgette's face came in closer to hers.

“I don't know why, but I do. And just so you know, I don't care for you only as my new friend.”

When Bridgette dropped her mouth over hers, she froze. Bridgette didn't move her lips or try to slip her tongue into her mouth. She waited for both, and when Bridgette finally opened her mouth, Deborah moved her hands up until they were covering Bridgette's arms. When Deborah sucked down on Bridgette's bottom lip, Bridgette's tongue came out and swiped across the edge of her mouth.

“Bridge,” Deborah whispered and dug her chewed-down nails into Bridgette's arms. She tasted the slight sugar coating Bridgette's mouth from the cotton candy she had eaten earlier.

“Hmm,” Bridgette replied and continued playing with her hair as her tongue swept over Deborah's.

Deborah sat back as Bridgette's palm rested on her cheek. She shuddered and kissed Bridgette harder. As her mouth opened again to welcome more of Bridgette's tongue, Bridgette moved away and rubbed her thumb over Deborah's mole.

“That was very nice, Sharon.” Bridgette bit down lightly on Deborah's lip, and with one last peck, stepped back.

Deborah blinked and flexed her hands that had found their way over Bridgette's chest. She was cupping both breasts and palming her aroused nipples. She dropped her hands in her lap and exhaled deeply as Bridgette pulled on her earlobe.

“Feeling better?” Bridgette asked.

The door swung open and a group of chatty teen girls came rushing in.

Deborah stood, and almost fell back in the chair from her dizziness. Bridgette wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled away the damp towel resting on her shoulders. Deborah let Bridgette take her out of the bathroom.

When they got outside, Deborah found she could breathe easier. With Bridgette's arm still around her, they walked over to a bench. As Bridgette sat down, Deborah did the same, and when Bridgette rested her arm around her shoulders, Deborah placed the side of her head against Bridgette's.

Deborah closed her eyes as Bridgette lightly played with the nape of her neck where her hair didn't touch. She would've loved Bridgette to run her fingers through her once long locks, but that would never be. Just as anything long term between them would never work.

She still had to mourn the death of her other relationship first. Shouldn't she?

“You're thinking too hard,” Bridgette said and gave Deborah a kiss on her cheek.

“My Mom used to say that to me when I was a kid. I tend to go over things in my head to the point where I can't think of anything else.”

“Like the kiss we shared in the bathroom just now?” Bridgette dropped her hand on Deborah's lap and gently poked the ridges of her knuckles.

“That, among a few other things,” Deborah said and jumped when a loud boom went off somewhere behind them.

“It looks like they're getting ready for the fireworks. Do you want to go find my parents and sit with them?” Bridgette asked and clasped her hand around Deborah's limp ones.

Deborah linked her fingers with Bridgette's and looked at all the people in the distance sitting in lawn chairs or on blankets as they listened to the band still playing. “I think I'd rather go home. I'm not up for being around a lot of people right now.”

Bridgette gave her an understanding nod and stood, still holding her hand. “The fireworks aren't set to go off for another half-hour, around nine thirty. We can see them perfectly from my backyard. Why don't we go back and watch them from there? That is, if you're not too tired or don't want to be around me.”

Deborah stood up from the bench upon hearing the hurt tone in Bridgett's voice. She dropped her hands on Bridgette's shoulders. “Now who's the one worrying? I don't want the night to end. I don't want to be here, but do want to be with you.”

When Bridgette gave her a sunny smile, Deborah grabbed her hand in hers again and started walking back home.

* * * *

“Rotquel, heel!” Bridgette ordered her excited dog as she rested her paws on Deborah's legs in welcome. Deborah patted Rotquel and gave her a loose hug. Finally, when Rotquel seemed pleased, she backed away and walked over to her doggy bed, where she started chewing on a ratty knotted rope.

“Want something to drink?” Bridgette asked as she rubbed her hand down Deborah's arm.

“I'd love some of your homemade lemonade,” Deborah said.

“Two lemonades coming right up.” Bridgette tugged on a piece Deborah's hair and went into the kitchen.

Deborah watched the way Bridgette's ass looked in her denim skirt as she walked away. When Bridgette was out of sight, she crossed her arms over her chest as she took in the room. A few loud booms went off outside and she flinched, shaking her head at her skittishness.

“Look at this music collection.” Deborah whistled through her teeth as she went over to the tall bookcase filled with CDs. Tilting her head to the side, she inspecting the cases, surprised to see most of the music was from the seventies and eighties.