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Maybe This Time

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The first time Stevie ever kissed a girl, she was sixteen years old and drunk on this cheap, shitty vodka some guy had stolen from his parents’ liquor cabinet. She was a sophomore, sitting in a circle with a bunch of older kids at a house party hosted by the captain of the Schitt’s Creek High School debate team.

 

Meg was her name, the debate team captain. She was a senior and for some reason she’d decided to take Stevie under her wing.

 

“This is Stevie,” Meg had informed her friends as Stevie followed her down the stairs to the basement. “She’s on debate team with me. She’s cool.”

 

And yeah, Stevie had joined the debate team that semester. If someone asked, she’d have told them she joined because she liked scowling and arguing with people.

 

And that was true.

 

But no one had ever asked, which was good.

 

Because Stevie also-maybe-kinda joined because she’d seen Meg in the hallways, and sat a couple seats away from her at lunch, and she was eighteen and had tattoos and a septum piercing and didn’t sound like a complete dumbass when she talked. Which was rare in this town.

 

Not many people were able to meet Stevie’s standards for friendship, so she had to capitalize on it when someone seemed like they would get it; get Stevie and her dry sense of humor and her disdain for stupid people and her reluctance to talk about her feelings with absolutely anyone.

 

Stevie didn’t know if they could be considered friends at this point, but she and Meg were definitely more than strangers by now. And Stevie thought Meg would get it, so she had to try.

 

Which was why she was here; drunk in the basement at a high school house party. This was a level she once told herself she’d never stoop to, but had admittedly stooped to many times and definitely would again.

 

They were playing spin the bottle. Stupid game, but maybe Stevie wanted to make out with someone because that was one of the few exciting things you could do to pass the time in Schitt’s Creek. And kissing was fun and Stevie didn’t really know most of the people here so she kinda had nothing to lose.

 

Then Meg spun the bottle and it landed on Stevie.

 

Oh.

 

Stevie somehow hadn’t considered this possibility, but now Meg was crawling across the circle towards her and people were shouting at them and Meg was pulling Stevie in with a hand at the back of her neck.

 

The kiss was messy and alcohol-fueled, but it was also… kind of good .  

 

Fortunately, it was over before Stevie was able to freak out about it any further, and Meg was back on her side of the circle, already focused on the next turn.

 

Stevie had played spin the bottle many times before. She was far from inexperienced. But for some reason Meg’s long hair brushing the side of her face, and the taste of the other girl’s tinted lip balm, and the way Stevie could tell she was smiling into the kiss had all gotten Stevie’s heart racing.

 

Huh.

 

Her body had never reacted like that to a kiss before.

 

But that seemed like a lot to deal with at the time, so Stevie immediately reached for the shitty vodka and took a solid swig of it, hoping everyone else was too drunk to notice the blush rising in her cheeks.

 

Chapter Text

The second time Stevie kissed a girl, they were both high and it was on a dare. She would have done it anyway, but she wasn’t about to tell anyone that.

 

It was the night of their graduation from Schitt’s Creek High. Stevie and her friends (yeah, she’d made friends eventually, thank you very much) had managed to get a hold of a couple blunts. The weed was decidedly not great, and Mutt definitely ripped them off for it, but it got the job done and that was all any of them really cared about.

 

They were laying in the grass by the creek- the actual Schitt’s Creek- talking about nothing and everything while absolutely devouring the three bags of Cheetos they picked up from the gas station on their walk through town earlier.  

 

All three of them were stoned to the point that they were getting existential and philosophical and all that bullshit.

 

“So how many people have you had sex with?” Evan asked, out of nowhere and to no one in particular.

 

Neither of the girls said anything and Stevie wasn’t sure who he was talking to, or what he defined as having sex, and eventually Stevie wasn’t even sure if he’d actually said that or if she’d just imagined it.

 

“Uhhhh a lot…?” replied Georgia a minute later. Or maybe it was ten minutes later? Stevie couldn’t be completely sure.

 

Georgia was laying with her head on Stevie’s stomach while Stevie absentmindedly played with her curly hair. It was soft and really pretty.

 

The two of them reached for more Cheetos at the same time. Their hands brushed and they started laughing because both their hands weren't going to fit in the bag and for some reason that was super funny.

 

Then Evan inquired, “what about you, Stevie?”

 

She licked the Cheeto dust off her fingers and said “this isn’t truth or dare.”

 

“Ohhh let’s play truth or daaaare,” Georgia mumbled, sounding exhausted and attempting to lift her head off of Stevie, but giving up halfway through. She closed her eyes and put her head back down, cuddling up a little closer than she had been before.

 

“Okay, Stevie.” That was Evan. Being a dick again. “How many people have you fucked?”

 

She was done with this conversation. High or not.

 

“None of your business,” she said. “Give me a dare.”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

That was Georgia. Fuck.

 

Stevie didn’t say anything. Or move, really.

 

“I dare you,” Georgia continued. Her head was still on Stevie’s stomach and now she was turning her head to look into Stevie’s eyes.

 

Even though her thoughts were clouded and rushed by the effects of the weed, Stevie’s brain still managed to pick up on the fact that this was a moment.

 

Georgia wanted to kiss her.

 

So they did.

 

They had to maneuver themselves awkwardly for a bit, to get to a position in which it was comfortable. Evan, thankfully, had fucked off once he realized the girls weren’t planning on breaking the kiss any time soon. Eventually, Stevie pushed herself up so that she was sitting cross-legged and Georgia had managed to get herself upright enough to kneel in front of Stevie. It was soft and good and Georgia’s hands were encircling Stevie’s waist and Stevie’s hands were in Georgia’s curls like they had been the whole night.

 

Stevie liked this. A lot.

 

***

 

Stevie brought Georgia back to her place to spend the night. Her aunt was out of town for the weekend, so they were alone.

 

They kissed a lot that night. They did more than kiss.

 

Georgia was a lesbian. She’d told Stevie a couple months after they’d become friends. That fact was always buzzing in the back of Stevie’s mind whenever the two of them were together.

 

And now they were alone, with an entire empty apartment and a queen sized bed. But for some reason Stevie still couldn’t bring herself to admit what she knew to be true about herself.

 

Georgia asked her out that night; asked Stevie to be her girlfriend. Even though she was high, her inhibitions and anxieties still managed to manifest themselves at the front of her brain and she pulled away from Georgia’s embrace.

 

Shitshitshitshitshit

 

“I- I can’t.” Stevie pulled herself upright so that she was sitting, hugging her knees to her chest.

 

Georgia’s face fell. Stevie felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest.

 

“I’m not-” gay, she was going to say. But given that Stevie’s face had been between Georgia’s thighs not more than ten minutes earlier, that seemed like a stupid and blatantly untrue thing to say. And as though she hadn’t already stuck her foot far enough into her mouth, she got up off the bed and muttered “I think I’m just confused, I'm sorry,” as she stumbled towards the bathroom attempting and failing to hide her frustrated tears.

 

They didn’t talk about it.

 

Stevie tried not to hate herself once the high wore off, but Georgia still left in the morning. She told Stevie it was okay, and they could still be friends, but the change in the air was palpable. Stevie had fucked up. She’d hurt Georgia’s feelings by clamming up instead of verbalizing her insecurities and reservations.

 

A couple weeks later Georgia moved to Vancouver to go to a liberal arts college and they never saw each other again.