Like I Love You

Chapter 1: Not Into Girls September 1993 By the time she turned nineteen, Dana Kelly had spent all her life watching other girls, but none of them took her breath away until she met Bethany Bartlett. It was her sophomore year of college, fall semester. Two-thirteen on a rainy Thursday afternoon during the first week back to class, to be specific—Dana remembered little details like that. She was working part-time at the campus library and her shift ended at two, but she somehow got stuck showing an upperclassman how to use the LexisNexis computer system to research a paper for his law class and, as a result, was now running late for English Lit. She had hoped to swing by the Student Union and grab a quick bite to eat before class—lunch seemed so long ago—but now she would barely have enough time to race across campus as it was. Maybe she could get a candy bar from a vending machine, if she had some change… She pushed through the first set of double glass doors leading out of the library, clutching her books to her chest with one arm as she absently rummaged through her messenger bag/purse/catch-all for a couple of quarters. Outside the sky was overcast, giving the day a steely look, and a light rain misted the quad. Students hurried down grey sidewalks, heads bent against the drizzle, umbrellas punctuating the scenery here and there like periods. If she could’ve avoided going to class at all, she would have skipped it in a heartbeat, the day was that miserable, but it was only the first week school was back in session and she’d promised herself over the summer that she’d try harder this year to show more of an interest in her studies. It was only a little rain, she reasoned. It wasn’t as if she were going to melt. Dana’s nails scraped a few coins in the bottom of her bag and she stopped, door held wide, to dig out the money. Hopefully it’d be enough. She didn’t really carry cash—if it wasn’t on the meal plan, she usually didn’t eat it. Peering into the depths of her bag, she counted out a couple of quarters, a dime, a nickle…a few pennies, worthless, but the silver coins, that should do it. Thank God. Mr. Goodbar, here I come. One of the outside doors opened, sending in a swoosh of damp, chilly air. Dana glanced up, disinterested, then did a double-take to look at the young woman entering the library. She was Dana’s age, a freshman or sophomore at best, and easily the prettiest girl Dana had ever seen. And Dana knew pretty; she’d been looking at other girls for as long as she could remember, covertly back home in the small town where she’d grown up and now, here at college, more openly in the two years since she’d been on her own. She wasn’t yet comfortable enough to say for certain if she was or wasn’t interested in other women in that way—she hadn’t kissed a girl, hadn’t even touched one yet, except accidentally in passing—but she knew enough to know she was curious and liked to look. Suddenly, she couldn’t seem to look away. Dana knew she was staring, but couldn’t help it. Girls like this didn’t exist in real life, did they? At least, not outside of magazine pages or movie screens. Not outside of her dreams. Careless curls of chestnut hair framed her heart-shaped face, a few strands pulled back from the brow barely held in place with a wooden barrette on top of her head. Her eyes were almond-shaped, almost cat-like, inked with dark eyeliner to accentuate their shape. The irises were a pale, clear green like sea glass; when Dana looked into those eyes, she felt as if she were looking through them, instead. And that mouth, the lips too wide for that face, was tied into a little bow of distaste that only tightened as the girl shook the rain from her curls. After a moment, Dana managed to find her voice. “Hey.” The girl glanced up at her, almost surprised to find she wasn’t alone. “Hi. Oh! Thanks.” She must’ve thought Dana was holding the door for her, because she breezed on through into the library, trailing behind a sweet, citrusy scent that seemed out of place on such a gloomy day. Dana found herself turning to follow the fragrance, inhaling it deep, drawing it into her lungs as if she could somehow save it for later. Racking her brains for something to say, something to keep the girl talking to her, she hurriedly called out, “I like your perfume!” The girl grinned as she flipped her curls over one shoulder to look back at Dana. “Thanks!” Then she was gone.