#you women's sports gays i better see you everywhere in the streets

[tvmusiclife]

Lastly, ykw? One unfortunate part of a tiktok ban is losing easy access to my little niche lesbian communities and representation. As well as the little phone people that reminded me that there's good in the world and humans are funny and not all bad. And my little phone chefs and teachers 🥺

[leatherednlace]

Jolene

Dean Winchester x Male reader

Tags - Drinking, Tipsy, Sad, Phone calls, Mentions of Sam x Male reader, Revenge, Kissing, Dean Winchester puts the P in A, Riding, Hickies, Dirty talk, Praise, Slow sex, Aftercare

You watch as the man of your dreams, sam winchester fall in love with a women...you out of your mind, angry, upset for him leading you on, you call Dean to take you home...by telling Dean, now’s your chance to get back at sam...

A/N - Thank the “slowed” version of Jolene for this...

Taglist - @flamencodiva @wonder-cole @superfanficnatural @that-one-gay-girl

——————————————————————————

You took the last swig of your drink, the glass slightly cold in your hand, but the feeling was so comforting...the numbness.

“Another”

You slurred. Your eyes set on the pair in the far corner, you could already feel your blood boil, stomach turning, mouth twisting in disgusting.

There he was, hands on the strangers hips, moving there bodies to the music, he was heavily intoxicated clearly by the empty sets of glasses on the table they were once sat at.

You sigh...music filling the void, the drink making your head fuzzy with each beat. You continued watching them closely. Sam was never like this with you, his hands never travelled up your back, never wound up in your hair, lips never met yours...

Shaking your head...you had enough, you wanted more, anything.

You heard the regular knock of the glass being placed infront of you, the whiskey sat at the bottom, the brown liquor making your mouth water, you needed it.

You bring the glass to your lips, taking a swig, you feel the burn which was very addictive, your throat already revelling in the contact, but you wanted to go home, to feel those soft blankets wrap around your body keeping you warm.

Sam wasn’t paying any attention to you at all, as if you were invisible, non-existent. You could feel the usual pang in your chest, the hurt, the empty feeling, everytime you thought of him.

One of your hands steadily dove into your left trouser pocket, you pulled it out, as soon as the phone screen turned on, your eyes flicked over the 2 missed calls from Dean...why Dean?

Your eyebrows furrowed, without thinking, presumably letting the alcohol take over, you tap call. A wave of nervousness travelled across your body, hands standing up on your arm, why were you having this reaction?

“Hello?”

The deep, gruff, slightly soothing voice echoed in your ears, you couldn’t help the groan that left your lips, not only was it Dean...but his voice...

“D-Dean...”

He could already tell, a sigh sounded from the speaker, you don’t blame him, you had told him you wouldn’t get drunk, but he can thank Sam for that.

“Are you drunk?”

You nodded, but blurted out a sloppy “y-yeh”. You couldn’t help think why Dean hadn’t hung up yet, but you were glad he hadn’t, nothing ever compared to how...horrible you felt right now...

“You want something?”

You paused, to regain a somewhat “sober” state.

“D-Dean can y-you come p-pick me up...Sammy left me alone f-for some woman.”

You awaited an answer, clearly he was annoyed, not at you, but at his brother. He felt kind of sorry for you, Sam had been leading you on for all these months...it’s not right...he would treat you so much better.

“Hold on...”

————————

Silence.

The silence was like a heavy weight, both you and Dean keeping your eyes on the road. You tried mustering up some kind of plan to forget about Sam and what he was doing...what his deal was with kissing that woman.

But you couldn’t, every touch, every kiss, they were like memories imprinted into the back of your head, everytime you closed your eyes, you saw the way Sam was with her...he was never like that with you.

You could feel the tears brim at your bottom lids. You could feel anger course it’s way through your veins, taking over your body.

“What Sam did...” Dean paused, correcting himself “is doing...it’s not right, it’s not fair” Dean kept his eyes on the road, glancing back at you and forth to see if you were okay.

“It isn’t...D-Dean nothing’s fair...not in this life, we are hunters, we hel-“

You were cut off by Dean pulling off the road into a lay by, he couldn’t handle seeing you like this, the guilt he saw in your eyes every time he looked at you, Sam has broken you.

Parking the car he switched the engine off, twisting the keys and sliding them into his pocket. Placing a warm, comforting hand on your thigh he shook his head.

“Listen...I can’t control my brother or his actions, what he did tonight shouldn’t really be any of my concern but I can’t bare to see you like...”

His voice had you shivering, it was a comfort at this point, deep, quiet, much like a whisper but loud enough to not be. You looked to his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, smiling weakly to yourself.

You look up into his green orbs, everything stilled as if time itself switched off, if only for mere seconds. “It’s nice to know i have someone fighting in my corner...”

Your words were rather breathy, both of you close...too close to be friends. Dean’s hand squeezed your thigh, his eyes asking if this was okay...there was a slight pause as you watch Dean closely, hungry tongue lapping over his dry bottom lip.

“I-Is this okay?”

Removing his slightly warm hand from your thigh, he brought it up to cusp your cheek, pulling your face towards his own, nothing could prepare you for the way his lips crashed against your own, this wasn’t needy...this was want.

This kiss was wet, deep, everything you had dreamed of...with Sam. But what was this feeling? Butterflies? Maybe...Maybe Dean was the problem solver here, What if it was Dean all along?

Dean sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, slightly tugging on it. A whimper escapes you as Dean took charge, his tongue sliding against yours in a fight for dominance, clearly he’s won.

Soft grunts left his lips at the sounds of your whimpers, they sounded oh so heavenly. You move closer wanting to feel more, his hands pulling you into his lap. You were now situated on his lap, knees at either side of Dean’s thighs, his tongue still in your mouth.

He pulled away, eye’s now getting a good look of you, your features. “God your more beautiful then I remember”. Dean already managed to make you feel good with just words…you wonder how else he could do that.

You feel yourself blush underneath the street light, Dean chuckled deeply, clothed cock brushing against your ass. “D-Dean please make me f-feel good” you moan sloppily, hoping he would take charge of the situation and make you forget.

His hands pushed down your rather loose bottoms past your hips, your bare ass on show. You hiss at the cold air now surrounding you, hands clinging onto his shoulders as he manoeuvres your trousers and boxers.

Your cock sprung free and rested against his clothed stomach. Dean smirked knowing it was him doing this to you, making you hard under his touch.

“I’ve always wanted to make you feel good…fuck” he groans into your ear, his deep gruff voice forcing a shiver out of you. Your hands wonder down to his belt, unlooping it from it’s confines, finding it easier to unzip his trousers.

He buries his face between the crook of your neck, hiding away as he nibbles on the soft skin. One of your hands dive into his now open trousers, grazing the plump hard on he was sporting.

You pull him out, now feeling the heavy weight of it in your hands. Dean moans at the slight friction your hand gives his aching member…god he was a mess.

“I-I need to feel y-you”

You place his aching tip at your wanting entrance, plunging into you.

The low rumbling moans that leave his lips make you clench around him, squeezing him tighter, “oh my God.” Dean can’t even find the words. 

You whimper in pain, the feeling of his thickness stretching you to accommodate his size.

Chanting your name over and over, whimpering as he sinks further into your warmth, as deep as he can possibly go. He grips onto you for dear life, as if he’d loose you.

His lips circle the shell of your ear, nibbling the soft area, breath fanning against it. “So fucking tight” he groans, using his hands to force your hips up and down, bouncing away in his lap.

Holding each other, you stay connected for a little while, enjoying the moment as Dean continues his harsh thrusts, rocking his hips into your tight heat, whimpers sounded out into the now fogged-up car.

“So much better then Sammy” you groan, this only had Dean slowing his hips, now pointing his aim at your sweet spot. “Love feeling myself deep in you…balls pressed to this ass” he gives it a smack, watching your face twist with pain and pleasure.

“Thought about this for years…’bout plunging my cock deep inside your little boy pussy…”

That’s all it takes for the coil to snap, you cling to Dean, hands squeezing his skin tightly as you scream his name, your cock twitched as you released your load onto his flannel, vision turning white.

“That’s it…squeeze around me, milk m- shit” Dean cums deep within you, load after load filling you making sure you knew who you belonged too. His eyes closed tightly…you could hear him pant, hardly able to catch his own breath.

He chuckles, half blissed. His eyes watched you closely, one of his hands coming up to cup your left cheek, taking in your features.

“How was it…” he mutters.

Your too fucked out and slightly tipsy to even open your mouth, instead you kiss him to show how much this actually means to you. Dean held you against his chest, kissing back with the same amount of passion.

Sammy was now a distant thought, everywhere you looked there was Dean…this felt right.

[thundercaya]

Someone Who Always Pays (Chapter 2)

(Chapter 1)

Once Peggy was back from her honeymoon she insisted on meeting with Angelica to hear all the juicy details.

“There aren’t any,” Angelica admitted over coffee in Peggy’s new living room. “Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

“He does like you though, right?” Peggy asked, refilling the souvenir mugs she’d sent back from Walt Disney World.

“He seems to,” Angelica shrugged. “He keeps asking me to go out again, so he has to, right?”

“He’s probably just being gentlemanly,” Peggy said. “Or he’s being shy. Either way, I bet if you made a move he’d go for it.”

“I hope so.”

“Well, if everything goes well, I’d love to meet him. We all would, actually. Daddy, Mom, Eliza. Alex wants to be re-introduced to him, too.”

“Oh, Alex is definitely last on the list of people I want talking to him,” Angelica said.

Peggy giggled. “Hey Angelica, remember when I was the most annoying person in the family?”

“You weren’t that annoying, Pegster.”

“You say that now, but you tried to kick me out of your eighth grade graduation party for telling your crush that you liked him.”

“Are you trying to say that I should forgive Alex?”

“God, no!” Peggy said. “I’m just saying I’m glad it’s not me anymore.”

On her date with John, that night, Angelica took Peggy’s advice, not pulling out of the parking spot at the restaurant right away and instead going for a kiss. As Peggy predicted, John responded readily, a large warm hand settling on the back of Angelica’s head to keep the contact firm. When they broke apart John was grinning.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am you just did that,” he said. “I’ve just been emboldened.”

“Yes?” Angelica prompted, hoping this would lead to that coveted invite to his hotel.

“I was worried that this might seem a bit fast, but I don’t have a lot of time here so I’d like to pin this down now if I can. I really like you a lot, and it would make me very happy if you would be my sweetheart. Us meeting at that bar is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re so beautiful, and it’s not just that. You’re smart and kind, and you’re probably very funny.”

Angelica was jolted out of her moment of joy. “Probably?” she repeated.

“I don’t get some of your jokes,” John admitted, “but I’m pretty sure that’s my fault.”

Angelica smiled warmly. “Well, next time you don’t get one, let me know and I’d be happy to explain it to you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” John said. “And as for my question?”

“Yes,” Angelica said. “I’d like that a lot. But could we call it something else? My father calls me sweetheart.”

John chuckled. “Understood. Will you be my girlfriend, then?”

“John, I would love to.”

There was still no invite upstairs, but Angelica felt like they were making progress. If not for the deadline, he might be moving even slower, so as much as she didn’t want him to leave either, she was glad he was taking that deadline as motivation rather than a deterrent. Since he had responded positively to her changing things up, she decided to try something other than yet another dinner or coffee date. Maybe that might set the scene for taking another step.

Angelica shot a text off to John.

Dress casual tonight! T-shirt and jeans!

He responded immediately. Are we going to the famous Dennys?

No, we’ll just grab something really quick. After that I have a surprise for you and you’re not going to want to be in dress shoes.

When Angelica picked up John he was dressed in a t-shirt and khakis.

“Don’t tell  me you’re too good for jeans,” she said, passing him a cheeseburger she had picked up on the way to his hotel.

John chuckled, unwrapping his burger. “I own jeans, I just didn’t pack any for this particular trip. I was originally here for business, you know.”

“Well, tonight you’re here for pleasure.”

“Yes, this trip has very much been a pleasure since I met you.”

“Of course it has,” Angelica said with a grin, “but tonight is different.”

John flashed an uncomfortable smile. “Should I be scared?”

“Only if you don’t like laser tag.”

“Laser tag?”

John, as it turned out, had never played laser tag. He had no aversion to it, he assured Angelica--it had just never come up.

“It’s really easy,” Angelica said as they entered the building. “Or, I guess what I should say is that it’s the kind of thing where it’s still fun even if you’re bad at it.”

“That’s what my uncle said about paintball. Then he shot me in the crotch.”

Angelica snorted. “Well, when you get hit in laser tag, the only thing that hurts is your pride, so I’m sure you’ll enjoy this much more than paintball.”

“Well, there weren’t any children when I went paintballing,” John said, looking around at the various birthday party tables. “If one of these halflings beats me, it just might hurt more.”

“Do you have a nickname ready?” Angelica asked when the employee at the desk handed her the sign-up sheet.

“Can’t I just be John?”

“You need something to differentiate yourself,” Angelica said. “Do you have any idea how many people are named John?”

“I’m regularly given someone else’s coffee at Starbucks,” John said. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Oh, a coffee theme could be fun!”

“I’m afraid my coffee order is even more common than my name.”

“Well, what do you eat with your coffee?” Angelica prompted.

“Uh… jelly donut, usually.”

“Perfect!” Angelica said, jotting that down. “And I need to match up with you a least a little bit, so I’ll be… peanut butter.”

“Excellent brainstorming there,” John said. “You’d fit right in with my creative team.”

They were both exhausted by the end of the third round, and they let everyone else get their score sheets first. John handed Angelica hers then scanned his own. “Let's see, high score goes to … KakashiQT.”

“I can't believe you won again!” a small boy whined at a girl whose party John and Angelica had passed on their way in. The girl, twelve years old according to her party balloons, smiled smugly.

“It's my way of the ninja.”

John pulled his mouth into a tight line, then inhaled sharply. “I lost to a tweenage otaku.”

Angelica put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, we both lost to her.” She grinned then. “But you did lose to her worse.”

“I hope I didn’t drag you too far out of your comfort zone tonight,” Angelica said as she pulled into the temporary parking at John’s hotel.

“Despite my being a really poor sport, I had a really great time,” John assured. “Thank you.”

Angelica grinned. “You’re very welcome.” She leaned in and gave him a kiss, which he returned eagerly.

John gave a contented sigh when he pulled back. “Well, good night.”

“John?” Angelica said, making him freeze with his hand on the door handle.

“Yes?”

“Speaking of coming out of comfort zones, don't you think it's time you invited me up for coffee?”

John stiffened. “You want coffee? There's an all night coffee shop down the street. Hotel room coffee is so-”

“John, maybe it's different where you're from, but around here, inviting someone for coffee doesn't mean coffee.”

John stared out the windshield. “I know what it means.”

“Then…?”

“I’m waiting.”

“Oh.” Angelica cleared her throat. “For?”

“Until I want children.”

Angelica felt like she was in the Twilight Zone. Wasn't America supposed to be the country with the subpar sex education? “You know there are things you can do to have sex without having children, right?”

“Yes, but if it's not to have children, I have no desire to have sex.”

“You mean you don’t want to have sex with me?”

John turned to her. “No, it's not you. I love you. Just… in general. It's... not my thing.”

“Are you sure you're not… gay?”

“No, of course I’m not,” John said. “I asked you out.”

“There are reasons that a man might ask a woman out without liking women. It's okay, John, but you need to be honest with me.”

“I am being honest,” he insisted. “I like women.”

“But you won't sleep with them?”

“I don’t sleep with men, either, but I also don’t date them. Look, I don’t normally care if someone thinks I’m gay, but if it’s the woman I’m in love with, then that’s a problem, isn’t it?”

“Okay, I… I believe you,” Angelica said. “I just don’t… get it.”

John shook his head and gave a defeated sigh. “Well, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that. Should I guess what I’ll hear next? ‘I’m sorry, John, but you’re just not what I’m looking for?’”

Was that what she wanted to say? This definitely wasn’t what she thought she was looking for, but now that she was here with John could she really say it wasn’t what she wanted?

Angelica took a deep breath. “Listen, what this comes down to is that I like you and I don't want to say goodnight yet. I'd very much like to come up to your room and if all we do is order room service and watch bad overnight programming, then that's fine.”

For a long moment, John looked everywhere but at her, then he met her eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

John pulled out his wallet. “Take my spare key card,” he said, handing the card to her. “Room 503. I'll take care of your car.”

“I thought you couldn't drive on the wrong side?”

“I can handle driving five meters.”

When Angelica entered the hotel room she realized she didn't have anything to change into. If she dressed down to her underwear or undressed entirely that could come off as an advance. Fortunately for her, John seemed to have had trouble deciding what to wear that night, and there were several t-shirts and other articles of clothing laid out on his bed.

Angelica was lounging on the bed when John entered. He eyed her in a Manchester United t-shirt and a pair of his boxers.

“You look adorable,” he said.

“And you looks like someone who has had a very exhausting night,” Angelica said. “Why don’t you come lie down?”

They spent the night watching Murder She Wrote. John pointed out his commercials and criticized all the rest of them.

“It's okay, but it doesn't have any punch.”

“What would you do to give it more punch?”

“That's not my job, but my team could make it way punchier.”

There was no sunlight thanks to the blackout curtains. Angelica was starting to consider getting some for her own home. John’s arms were around her, his body solid against her back. He held her like something precious, and hadn’t she always wanted to be held that way? She could feel his breath as he pressed kisses into her hair. It was so calm and quiet that she startled a bit when he spoke, but she settled right back down, eyes slipping closed once more.

“I can come and go as I please,” he said. “I can split my time between New York and London easily. There’s always work to be done both places and I love flying, But it would make me exceedingly happy if, when I’m in London, you’d be there too.”

“I have to think,” Angelica said, lest he take her pondering silence the wrong way. She could certainly work from London just as easily as she could from New York. The bigger issue was her family. Not being apart from them, so much. Most of them spent the larger part of their time in DC. It was more what they would think. Her father, in particular, wouldn’t be happy with her galavanting off to Europe with someone she’d only known for a few months. Of course she’d already set someone aside before because of her father’s approval, so why would she again?

“I don’t think I can say right now that I’ll be there with you always,” Angelica said, “but I can say I’ll be there often.”

John gave her a squeeze. “I can accept often. Any amount of you in my life, I can accept.”

Angelica spent most of the last few weeks of John’s stay at his hotel room. She checked on the house daily as one of her errands, but mostly she did her work from his room and waited for him to come back. When she spoke to her family she told them that she was still seeing John, but she didn’t elaborate on just how much time she was spending with him these days. Her parents would insist that she was moving too fast. Her sisters would want to know how John was staying off of her when they were around each other so much. She still didn’t understand it herself, and it wasn’t easy keeping off of him either, but at least once they had a clear boundary, John was comfortable enough to show her that he was good with his hands.

When Angelica returned to the hotel room after visiting the house, she found John seated on the bed. He was staring down at his hands, which were clasped in his lap.

“Oh, hi, I thought I would beat you back,” Angelica said, closing the door.

“Got out a bit early,” John said. “Will you sit with me?”

Angelica took a seat next to him. “Is everything okay?”

John flashed a quick, nervous smile. “Everything’s fine. I just have something on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” John said. “But it’s incredibly important and I am absolutely terrified of messing it up.”

Angelica leaned in and planted a kiss on his shoulder. “How about you try it? And if it doesn’t come out right, you try it again?”

John nodded and pulled in a deep breath before standing and facing Angelica. “Not too long ago, you told me that you didn’t want to say good night. Well, I don’t want to say good bye. Not ever.” He reached into his pocket and dropped down to one knee. “Angelica, will you be Mrs. Church-Schuyler?”

“Oh my God,” Angelica whispered. “Oh my God. Oh my--Why not Schuyler-Church?”

John grinned. “Because this name is going on my business. Schuyler Church sounds like a religious facility, and while I certainly worship you, that isn’t what my brand is about.”

Through tears, Angelica laughed. “That was pretty good.”

“Good enough for a yes?” John asked hopefully.

Angelica grabbed his shirt and pulled him up to kiss her. “I would have said yes regardless.”

John slipped the ring on her finger and dropped the box. He laid her down on the bed, kissing her more fully. When he pulled back he said; “now for part two.”

“There’s a part two?” Angelica asked breathlessly.

“Yes. Angelica, come to London. Not in a month. Not in a week. Tomorrow. Just say the word and I’ll have a seat for you in first class.”

“You travel first class?”

“Coach, normally, but I’ll upgrade if that’s what it takes. Once we land we can get the paperwork going for our marriage. Unless I missed something in the law, we can be husband and wife within two weeks.”

Angelica patted John’s chest and he climbed off of her, allowing her to sit up.

“I didn’t realize you wanted to get married so soon.”

“If that changes your answer--” John said hurriedly, but Angelica cut him off with a kiss.

“It just makes the yes more emphatic,” she said. “Though I do have to figure out really quickly what I’m going to tell my family.”

“We can talk about that over dinner,” John said. “But there is one more thing that we should talk about… not over dinner.”

“Is it the sex thing?” Angelica asked. “It’ll be hard for me, but I’m sure I can--”

John cut her off with kiss of his own. “I don’t doubt you at all,” he said. “Still, I've been thinking about that and I might have a solution. How do you feel about open relationships?”

Angelica was momentarily stunned, then she hook her head to reorganize her thoughts. “I have to admit I never thought about it.” Jokes about sharing Alex didn't count; she'd never seriously considered it.

“There's all different kinds depending on what the participants are comfortable with,” John said. “And if we try something and it turns out we don’t like it, we can try something else.”

“I’ll consider it,” Angelica said. “But that’s not important right at the beginning. My family, and the wedding--courthouse, right?”

“That would be the fastest way, yes.”

“Okay, so we focus on that first, and the rest… we can talk about in first class.”

John grinned, grabbing his phone. “One first class ticket for Angelica Church-Schuyler, coming right up.”

[michellevalenciaperdomo-blog]

Duet

We met at an AA meeting. I liked her immediately because she didn’t recognize me. She didn’t stare at me, or glance quickly and then take out her phone, to see if my old headshots matched the face she saw before her. In fact, if she was staring, it was because she, as she later told me, thought I was so beautiful.

She was so so beautiful, like the first women I fell in love with as a teenager, like a model in a French perfume ad my mother had in a magazine, or the star of my high school basketball team. The first time she walked into AA, a young woman around my age tapped her friend on the shoulder and subtly pointed to her. I assumed it was because of her magnetic grace.

The drinking started after my career, not even in its prime, came to an end. My manager thought that I could bounce back. He kept scheduling me auditions, meetings with production companies, sent me to dinners at Chateau Marmont, where I wore a slinky cocktail dress and flirted with directors. But everything in me hurt and the only way to stop the pain was to drink. And then I’d wake up in my bed, or my manager’s bed, smelling of sourness, of vomit, of shame, and I wouldn’t even care, because the aching was overwhelming. When the sun was out, I felt its heat as if its light shone through a magnifying glass directly onto me. When night creeped in, every bone in my body felt as fragile as glass, and I feared I’d break again at any second. Who could’ve done this to me?

She stepped up and said, “Hello, my name is Jessica. And I’m an alcoholic. I don’t want to talk about what happened to me. In fact, I’m sure some of you already know the story. But I’ve been six months sober now…half a year. And every day it’s hard, but every day I know it’s worth it. Some nights I can even sleep again soundly, and I wake up and I forget who I am…not in a scary way, but just in a way where I feel like I could be anybody, I could do anything. I’m thinking about maybe joining some sort of local theatre troupe, just to see if I still love acting the way I used to. But right now, I’m happy just to be in this body. It took me a long time to get here, but here I am. Thank you.” And then she sat down. I watched her tuck her hair cut into a neat bob, behind her ear, and noticed the start of a deep, purple scar on her forearm, obviously from some sort of surgery. I wondered how long it was…what could’ve caused such a gash.

After the meeting, she asked to bum a cigarette from me. I gave her one, and lit it for her. She was tough looking, rugged, definitely an LA transplant. She had dark circles under her eyes, and a strange gait, almost like a limp. “Hi,” She said. “I’m Liz.” “First meeting?” Liz nodded. “First one here, at least. I’ve actually been sober for about half a year too.” I smiled. “Really?” Liz smiled, a plume of grey smoke escaping from behind her teeth. “Yeah. I um…last time I drank, I did something so stupid. I was so drunk. So I had to stop.” “Wow.” “Yeah.” We kind of just smiled at each other, staring. “Maybe this is, like, not your thing…” Liz said, “ but we should celebrate our soberversary together. We can make seltzer cocktails and have a nice dinner, or something.” I felt myself smile widely. My heart skipped. “Is that forward of me?” Liz asked, but she was still smiling in that delightfully self-deprecating way of hers, half joking, half smug, completely charming. I shrugged. I hadn’t been on a date with a woman before, at least in public. My manager told me it would be bad for my image, that I was marketing myself as a heartthrob, not a bisexual indie girl. I hated when he talked like that. After one of those long back-and-forths about my “brand,” my beauty that would fade before I capitalized, my talent that would only take me so far, I got so angry I felt like I was going to burst out of my skin. So I left, I drank a lot, I went to the first barber shop I saw, and told them to take it all off. I walked down the street that night sporting a short crop of hair that felt so soft, so natural, so me. “You’re being forward.” I said, “But I like that. That would be nice, yeah. I’d like to celebrate with someone else. I’ve been by myself a lot recently.” I finished my cigarette. I saw my scar peeking out from my sleeves, and crossed my arms. “You are…gay?” Liz asked. I smiled. “I actually don’t know if I’d call myself that. But…for all express purposes for you, I am.”

It was so quick from there. The first time we spent the night together, I ran my hand over each of her scars, fleshy and rigid, pink and purple, trail marks, currents. She said she did not want to talk about it, but I assumed it was self-harm. We made a promise. We didn’t talk about our past if we didn’t want to. We didn’t have to unravel those tangled webs, for fear of getting stuck in the mess, our past lies, our past vices. So we moved forward, as one.

She didn’t know I started going by my middle name, she didn’t know what my scars were from, how I landed and burst on the pavement like a balloon filled with water, that I was once an almost someone…all she would say is “You are so beautiful. God, you are so beautiful.” And suddenly my whole world would become soft and safe.

There is a difference between starting over and living a lie. I was doing the former. She didn’t need to know about the rage I used to have, how I’d drink to fuel the fire in my belly, the way I’d drive down roads late at night till my car became a vacuum and no sound could go in and out, and it was just me and the blood pumping through my skull. Neither of us liked to drive anyway. We might’ve been the only people in LA who hated cars. We talked about moving somewhere else, maybe Portland or New York, somewhere where we could walk everywhere. In the meantime, we biked, ran, had friends shuttle us from one place to the other.

It was the first time I acted in a year. It was only a community theatre production of A Doll’s House, but it was so wonderful to feel the spotlight on me and just feel a warm glow, to look out into an audience of enraptured strangers who did not know who I once was, just who I could be. Then afterwards, as Liz gave me a huge hug and kiss, a woman tapped me on the shoulder. I was clutching a large bouquet of wildflowers Liz had picked for me that morning, and turned to see a woman I did not recognize. She was looking at me as if she had just witnessed a ghost. “I’m sorry but you’ve been on a few television shows, haven’t you?” She asked. I furrowed my brows in faux confusion. “Yes,” the woman continued, “You were a guest star on The Witch’s Coven, weren’t you? What are you doing in community theatre?” Liz gazed upon the scene with suspicion. “No,” I said finally, once I brought myself to speak, “You’ve got me confused with someone else.” The woman eyed me for a second longer, pursing her lips. “Hm, maybe you’re right. Anyway, that actress had very long hair.” Then she walked away. My hands started to shake, making the petals rattle and fall.

“What was that about?” I asked. Jessica vigorously shook her head. “It’s nothing. She just got me confused with someone, I guess.” But her hands were shaking. I grabbed them to make them still. “You know you can tell me whatever’s scaring you.” I said softly. And I meant it. As scared as I was by what she could say, I knew I’d love her, as she’d loved me, no matter what.

I wiped a tear from my eyes before it could fall down my cheek. I took a deep breath. I had to be strong. “It’s really nothing. I guess it just made me feel bad that I’m not this big star. That’s it.” Liz took me in a large embrace. I could smell the smoke in her hair, the scent of the shampoo we both used. I hugged her back.

Dear Liz, There is so much I wish I could tell you, but if I bring myself to tell the whole tale, I’ll surely spiral into a darkness I hope to only know once. That night I was walking down the street with my new short hair, a car hit me. It was speeding dangerously fast, and suddenly my world was darkness and shattered glass and a body that was once mine belonged to the hard metal clash, then the air, then the space between life and death, and then finally the pavement. The worst part was that they, that someone, that devil, sped away. And I blacked out. Someone walking by saw me laying in the road and called an ambulance. And then my body was cut open, the bones and their fragments put back together with metal and sutures, and then I was, somehow, whole again. But it’s never been the same. I always wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped to get drunk, if I hadn’t gone into that one barber shop, if I had walked out on my manager just a moment later. Mostly I wonder what if I wasn’t drunk. These are the questions that still haunt me. But I promise not to bring that darkness in, because I love you so much and you deserve the best of me.

Dear Jessica, There is so much I want to tell you, so much shame that I carry. My drinking stopped when it had to. I was speeding down the road. It was night. I was drunk. So drunk that I have no memory. Sometimes I think it’s better that way, that all I have is the grave and constant feeling that I’ve done something unforgivable. I hit a boy. I saw that crop of golden hair, then suddenly that head was against my window, and I heard that awful sound of body against metal. My whole body lurched. And my mind said, “You cannot let your life stop here.” So I just kept driving. I drove into the blackness and never looked back. I hope that boy is okay. I think about him all the time. That golden hair, flying through the air. I have so many regrets…that I shouldn’t have taken that road, that I should’ve stopped, called an ambulance, that I shouldn’t have been drunk in the first place. These are the questions that still haunt me. But I promise not to bring that darkness in, because I love you so much, and you deserve the best of me.