Crush by Carrie Mac Read Free Book Online Page B

evaporates and terror sets in. What will Joy say? And everyone at the farm? And Nat? What if I’m way off and I’m really as straight as it gets and am just suffering from a fleeting moment of questioning because of my lesbian environs, and now I’ve laid my soul bare when I didn’t need to? I should’ve kept my mouth shut, at least untilI’d kissed her. At least until I knew for sure. I feel my eyes well up. I am just one big human mood swing and I want off.
    “Oh, Hope.” Larissa hugs me as the tears let loose. “This is a big deal for you, huh?”
    “I don’t know,” I say, gulping between sobs. “It’s just weird, that’s all.”
    “I came out in college,” Larissa says. “Her name was Monica—”
    “But I’m not coming out!” I cry even harder. “I don’t know what’s going on! That’s the problem, don’t you understand?”
    “You do whatever you need to.” Larissa’s voice softens. “No one’s going to jump to conclusions. Yourself included, okay?”
    “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
    Larissa nods.
    “Even Maira, okay?”
    “Okay.” Larissa sits herself with the boys on the rug. “How about you go take a shower or a walk or something before I go?”
    I nod. “Thanks, Larissa.”
    Larissa shrugs. “Not sure that I helped, but you’re welcome.”

Chapter Eight
    I take Daisy for a walk in the park, which doesn’t clear my mind much because I keep thinking I see Nat and Clocker in the distance, and I’m not even sure if I want to run into her or never see her again so long as I live. When I get back, Larissa leaves for her trial, and I pack the twins into the double stroller and go wandering the neighborhood, trying to distract myself with the bustle of Brooklyn. It doesn’t work.
    I end up just up a block from the bike shop where Nat works. I try to tell myself it isn’t on purpose, but the fact is that I want to see her. Need to, actually. I need to know if I still want to kiss her, because if I don’t, then I don’t have anything to worry about. Back to business as usual, right? Maybe Bruce has some younger friends he could set me up with. Actually, come to think of it, that could be a very good idea. A tidy little summer fling in New York with some studly actor wannabe? I can think of worse things...and besides, this whole kissing girls thing is probably just a phase.
    That’d be just like me. I’ve always been impressionable. Like when the Buddhist Woofers came to the farm and I wanted to be a Buddhist. And when the fire spinners came and I wanted to go on tour with them, just like that. And then there was my vegan phase and my Wicca phase and my militant anti-fur phase. So maybe this is just a case of me being some kind of unoriginal queer wannabe? How pathetic that I don’t even know myself well enough to know if I like boys or girls. Or both?
    One of the bike mechanics is sitting outside smoking. I’m a bundle of nerves, so I hustle right past and all the way down to the end of the block, where I shake my head in wonder. Why hadn’t I gone in?
    I look back. Nat has joined the mechanic on the bench. She’s sitting in the shade, but I can tell it’s her, and after just that one glance I also know something else. I am no queer wannabe. This is no phase. This is for real. Real, like breathing. Real, like lightning sheets in summer storms. Real, like my pounding heart and racing thoughts. Real . Uh-oh.
    I’m in big trouble. Not only do I still want to kiss her, but I have to kiss her. And I know it for sure from all the way at the end of the block. I don’t think she’s seen me. I should take off before she does so I don’t do anything I might regret. But I’m stuck, transfixed, staring at her as she stands and moves into the sun, still talking to the mechanic. They both squat to check out a bike. Seconds later, she stands to grab a passing girl in a hug. They laugh, and she lifts the cute girl with blue hair right off her feet.
    Uh-oh.
    I’m in bigger trouble