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The shudders, the shaking

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Her phone's lying out when I get home (from shopping: new shoes, two fabulous brassieres), open and flashing. New message from Naomi. I don't even have to bend over to see her face grinning up from Emily's screen.

Fucking ridiculous, this queer little friendship between them. Something about it sticks in my throat, like a piece of hard candy I swallowed without meaning to. But, whatever, right? Em's always been a bit off. If she wants to moon around over some lesbian, that's her prerogative. No mooning under my watch, course. Nothing unnatural.

I sling the Top Shop bag onto my bed (Top Shop - the only tried and true cure for PMT), rummaging for a moment for my new underthings. Hold up the purple, and feel good about this.

The phone goes off again, a quiet hum against her comforter. "Em!" I shout.

"Shower!" And then I register the soft sound of water. She'll leave some hot for me if she cares about her well being.

I fold the new things into my drawers, tapping my foot to the song that played at the store.

A quiet buzz. Emily's phone. Fucking again? Despite my better judgment, I step over and look. Naomi's face, huge fucking grin plastered on the screen. Bleeding hell.

I hit Ok, plopping down on Em's bed. There's four unread, all from the Queen of the Resale Rack. Her mouthiness obviously translates to the electronic medium. Rolling my eyes, I activate the top message, ready for her latest tirade on the importance of nylon footwear or how she's really, really, not gay.

just call me back please

Right. About what, Miss Campbell? I scroll down.

dont know how to say it out loud but you make me feel something

There's more. I'm clicking on the next message before I even realize it.

emily please. the way you made me feel, the way you touched -- It goes on, but I don't.

"Emily!" I shout, flicking the phone closed and laying it carefully next to me. My voice is shaky. I've been waiting for this, in a way. Some sort of confirmation. But its different from how I imagined it.

"Give me a minute, all right?"

But it can't wait. I tighten my jaw against the words that bubble up and take a steadying breath. I'm on my feet. I'm at the bathroom door. Turning the handle, and--

"Jesus, can't you wait?"

--tearing back the shower curtain.

She clutches her hands against herself, the spray going everywhere. I can feel the sudden damp against my face, my chest, my hands, but I can't feel anything else. Just her porcelain skin gleaming under the shower head.

"What did she do to you?" And I'm in the shower now, that's the only way to explain the water running down my face. And my hands are on her, begging her to listen, to come clean.

She's not strong enough to stand up to me, she never has been, not strong enough to keep me from pulling her arms free, shoving her against the cold shower wall. But she's strong enough to come at me, bucking her hips, arching against the wall. "She didn't do anything, you bitch." The words come out stinging, spitting. It's not enough, because deep down, I don't believe her. I want to, I think I want to, but I can't. I hold her arms up, searching for an explanation on her skin.

"It's disgusting -- two girls -- you, you and -- that girl." I can't say her name, I close my eyes, and all I can see is the two of them, together, thighs pressing, mouths open. "You let me believe --"

"I'm gay, Katie," she's calm. Far too calm.

I pull her towards me, and shove her back, feeling it all through me when her head hollowly hits the wall. "You're not a fucking dyke, Emily. She's... done something to you." My clothes are getting heavy, ruined. But there's no going back now. "And if you are..." I lean against her, keeping her flush against the tile. "You like this," I'm crying, salt mixing with the fresh water from over our heads, my right hand reaching between us, and finding the gap between her thighs, cupping upwards, "Her hands on you, fucking you." She's been where I am now, Naomi, pressing her fingers against my sister, cooing in her ear.

The noise she makes, something between a gasp and a yell, but I can't stop. She's wet, slick on my fingers, and my breath is coming fast and heavy and I slide a finger inside her. Two. Full up.

"Katie," she says, and I drop my forehead next to her, just breathing.

She moves, then, so quickly against me that I don't pull away. And maybe I wouldn't. Regardless.

"I do like this," she whispers, and the water pounds down all around us, turning cold. And for the first time, I really look at her, sneaking a breath, against her neck, then pulling away. Her breasts, lifting with each breath. So much of us is the same, but this one thing, this one girl. She had to go and ruin it.

I'm moving too, reacting to her, jerking my fingers in and out - rough. "Filthy." I bite her neck, and she's flush against me, pushing against my hand, keening. "Disgusting." Faster now, my breath against her ear.

"Katie, I'm--"

I pull away, suddenly shivering in the cold. "Fucking lesbian cow." The words don't have any bite. And I look down between us at my fingertips, slick and red with her blood. Our blood.

She's breathing hard, waiting for something.

For once, I don't know what that is.