Restless On A Road Trip: A Lesbian Romance Read online

  “Damn traffic,” muttered Maggie absently as she looked over her shoulder and then merged. “Do you know one of the coolest things about going to Colorado to hang out?” she asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Legal weed!” Maggie said and then broke into a laugh.

  “Weed?” I said, laughing along with her. “You’re crazy, Mags. I haven’t done that in, like, 6 or 7 years.”

  “But it’s legal now,” she said. “I mean, we totally have to go to the store and buy it. Just for the experience.”

  “The experience,” I reiterated. “Sure.”

  “They have crazy stuff out there,” she said. “Piper’s told me so much. Not just, you know, the plant material. But gummy candy, and tinctures, and even topical ointments and patches.”

  “Patches?”

  “Yeah,” Maggie said. “Piper had her wisdom teeth out recently and instead of popping the pills her doctor prescribed, she got these patches that she stuck to her arm and they helped mitigate the pain.”

  “That’s some futuristic stuff,” I said. “Sounds like Colorado is really taking this weed science thing seriously.”

  “I know, right?” Maggie laughed again. “It’s so interesting to me. I’ve got to see what it’s like.”

  “Okay,” I relented. “I’ll go to one of those stores with you, but I don’t want to get obliterated or anything. I’m sure the weed out there is really strong.”

  “We’ll be good.” Maggie looked over to me and grinned. Despite the sunglasses covering her face, I knew she had the devil in her eyes.

  “Sure,” I mused, shaking my head. I felt a great sense of excitement brewing inside of me at our little back and forth. And when I looked at Maggie in the driver seat, her small frame sitting there deep in the black leather, hands atop the wheel, guiding us through the beginning of our trip, I couldn’t help but look down to her bare thighs. Maggie’s shorts had ridden up on her and exposed even more of her smooth legs and I kept peering over at them out of the corner of my eye. She was so small and beautiful.

  There was just something about this woman. I couldn’t quite tell you what it was. But she made me feel different. I was drawn to her, you know? Like, in some sort of physical way. I always caught myself admiring her, thinking about her, wondering what it might be like to touch her. If I could have reached over and stroked her bare leg, I definitely would have. It’s what I wanted. And then I could just slide my hand up the thin fabric of those shorts…

  “Do you feel like you’re moving on from Paul?” asked Maggie suddenly, though with a hint of trepidation. Her words broke my reverie and I felt somewhat caught off guard.

  “I, um…” I said, stammering. “I don’t know,” I surmised after a moment. “I mean, as I think about it I’m not sure I was ever really, you know, gung ho about him.”

  “That’s so crazy to hear you say,” she admitted. “Because, Dana, I felt that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah!” she said. “There was always something off there.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “So what are you looking for in a guy?” Maggie said with enthusiasm. I could tell she was eager to bond like we had in the past. This trip for her had originated as a respite from her normal life but had become something else entirely with me joining in.

  “I don’t know, Maggie,” I said, feeling put on the spot. “I don’t know anything about guys. I don’t know if I want to talk about this.”

  “Fine, fine,” she said, lifting one hand off the wheel and holding it up. “Don’t hold back on this trip, though,” Maggie continued. “I’m ready to deal with whatever you want to deal with. We’re going to create some memories,” she said, once again looking over to me with a wide grin. “And I think both of our lives are going to be irrevocably changed from this.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  It was a long drive through Iowa but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find the green farmland beautiful. Yeah, it can be boring, but catching up in the car with Maggie made the time go by much quicker. Nebraska, that was supposed a different story. Nebraska was long and flat and often brown and very much the same throughout. I remembered being told by friends who had made the trip out west through Nebraska that it could be a tedious drive. That would be our drive tomorrow, however. Much to look forward to.

  Maggie and I had switched somewhere in the middle of Iowa at a gas station and now that I was behind the wheel, I was getting a little envious that Maggie had zonked out with her head against the window. Her blonde hair bunched up against the glass, a small smile on her face, a cute little button nose, eyelids gently closed. I just found her so pretty. I couldn’t help it. She was a pocket-sized woman, little and cute. Looking back and forth, from the long stretch of highway in front of me, over to Maggie, back to the road, back to Maggie, I felt my heart begin to race a little bit. I was feeling something strange sitting there in the driver’s seat. It made me nervous.

  With her short athletic shorts riding up, I spotted a small triangle of freckles on her inner thigh. Just three freckles, faint and light, with the top of the triangle pointing inwards between her legs. I admit, I felt a little bit like a creeper looking at Maggie like that, but her slight frame was intoxicating. I wanted to reach my hand over and place it on her thigh.

  “No,” I chastised myself in my head. “No, Dana, that’s super weird.”

  But this wasn’t the first time I looked at Maggie and felt this way. If I’m being honest with you, it happened a lot. Maybe, like, every time I was with Maggie. I guess that would be accurate. But it always made me feel strange. It always made me feel bad. It always made me feel… confused.

  It went all the way back to when we were in college, that year we were roommates. I had befriended Maggie our freshman year because I thought she was just the coolest girl I’d ever met. She was pretty and tiny — I mean, even tinier back then —and her blonde hair that this pink streak in it. Big geeky glasses back then, too. Hip, really. You know, the artist type. Maggie was so full of life and exuberant, always smiling, always ready for adventure, always working on some impressive project. She most certainly had a lightness about her. Something special. I wanted to condense whatever she had, bottle it, and spray on me every morning so that I could be just like her.

  We became friends quickly and just as quickly I found out that Maggie was a lesbian. I have to admit, I was a bit sheltered growing up and I had never met a lesbian before. No, that’s not true. I knew one girl who was out. And looking back on it, I’m sure I knew other girls who were but I was just a kid, no experience, I never knew who I was looking at. But Maggie, it was no big thing for her. She mentioned her sexuality in passing, grinned and shrugged, and continued on with whatever we were doing. It was inspiring. That frankness drew me in even closer.

  Maggie was popular in our circle. The girls liked her because she was hip and trendy and smart, but they also kind of resented her because a lot of the guys liked her despite that she quite openly went after other women. She and I ended up a lot closer than either of us were with the other girls on our floor and by the time our sophomore year rolled around, we decided to be roommates.

  Something weird changed within me when Maggie and I roomed together. I felt some strange feelings that I wasn’t familiar with and that inspired some discomfort within me.

  I think I can pinpoint it to one specific experience.

  Our dorm room door swung open and I watched from our loft, two beds connected to each other hoisted up in the high-ceilinged room, book in my hand, as Maggie strutted in. She had a towel wrapped around her head, another around her body, and she carried a small shower caddy filled with her various bathing products. As she entered the room, she smiled up at me and waved, and then promptly kicked the flip flops off her feet.

  It was getting late in the evening, I was reading before bed, and Maggie had just taken a shower post work. If I recall correctly, she worked at the campus art museum on the event nigh
ts, sitting at the ticket desk or something like that.

  Although I pretended to continue reading my book, I couldn’t help but watch Maggie. Pushing her hand into the wrap of her towel, Maggie plucked the terry cloth off of her and delicately removed it, swiftly tossing it up onto a hook that hug off of her closet. She stood there naked, but for the small towel wrapped around her hair, and she opened up her closet to fish through it and find her sleeping clothes. She was beautiful naked. Her body lithe and diminutive, except for the curve of her butt. You might expect a small girl like Maggie to be flat, but she had a plump rear and an ample chest up front. She could almost be described as curvy in her stature. I felt my heart race as I watched Maggie, leaning her arm up against the frame of the closet, absentmindedly bouncing back and forth, leaning on one leg, her behind pumping, the gentle bobbing of one breast visible to me from where I lay.

  I felt so naive. I felt naive because, candidly, I was turned on watching Maggie. She was stunning. First Maggie pulled out a tank top from her closet and threaded herself into it, standing there bottomless for a moment, her butt even more pronounced. Then she took a pair of cotton shorts and, insanely enough, she turned toward me to begin putting them on.

  That was the first time I’d ever seen a woman with her pubes fully shaved. I knew that it was something some people did, but it felt distant in some way. Like, maybe it was something that just hyper sexual people did. Or movie stars. Or porn stars. I don’t know what I thought. But it was so novel to me to see Maggie completely hairless and to watch her gingerly slip her small shorts up her thighs.

  Then Maggie looked up at me. She had caught me. I think I let out an audible gasp but I’m not sure. Maybe that’s just how I felt. But instead of acting like I was weird or something for watching her, Maggie simply smiled at me.

  “Are you watching me get dressed?” she said teasingly.

  “No,” I said. “Maybe.”

  “Like what you see?”

  “Oh stop!” I said, swiftly putting a pillow over my head to block my eyes from looking at my beautiful young roommate. I heard Maggie laugh. I felt so embarrassed, I felt my heart speedily thumb against my chest.

  “It’s okay to look,” Maggie called up to me. Her voice had changed. It was more empathetic. In a slow movement, I peeled the pillow off my head and pushed it aside, my eyes peering down from the loft to look at Maggie. She was dressed now, tank top and shorts, standing there with a smile on her face and her hands on her hips.

  “I’m sorry,” I pouted.

  “What were you looking at?” Maggie asked carefully, her visage amiable and accepting.

  “I was…” I said, cutting myself off and feeling that familiar embarrassment well up within. I didn’t want to say. I felt so dumb.

  “C’mon,” said Maggie, her grin growing. I think she knew how cute she was and liked the affirmation. It was just us in that room, private, we were great friends. We could be open with one another.

  “Your pubes are all shaved off,” I intoned bashfully. This gave Maggie a laugh.

  “Yeah?” she said through her laugh. Reaching to the elastic of her shorts, Maggie peeled the front fabric down and reveled again her shorn mound. It was shaved so close, it made me think she had just done it in the shower that night. Her flesh was light pink and I could see the line of her pleat splitting down the middle of her. “So they are,” Maggie said, looking down at herself.

  “It’s nice,” I cooed.

  “Thank you,” said Maggie, grinning at me, her head shaking just slightly. “You want to keep looking?” she asked jokingly, still holding her shorts open, hips forward, presenting for me.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. “I feel so embarrassed.” I quickly rolled over in bed and looked away. Before I knew it, however, I felt Maggie’s small body climb up the loft ladder, the wood frame of the structure moving just slightly as she ascended, until I felt her hands reach out and grab me, rocking me back and forth.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Dana,” she said through another laugh. Her rocking of my body was gentle and consistent until I rotating once more to face her.

  “I didn’t mean to look at you,” I whispered. “That was weird.”

  “It’s totally okay,” said Maggie smiling. With Maggie so close to me, with what had happened, it didn’t feel okay. It felt strange and confusing. I had always thought that I was attracted to guys but something deep within me was flush with desire for Maggie. Disconcerting, to say the least. I felt wrong in a way, tricked or something, like… why was I feeling like that? That wasn’t how I was supposed to feel. This wasn’t how I was told things would be.

  I smiled weakly back at Maggie, trying to apologize again with my eyes, and she just looked so kind. She really was a great friend. Maggie reached forward and stroked her hand lightly through my hair.

  “It’s okay, Dana,” she said again sweetly. “We’re still friends.”

  “Okay,” I affirmed in a murmur, still feeling like my heart might leap out of my chest. Still feeling scared and different and anxious. I almost felt like I could puke, I was so nervous.

  My flashback reverie was broken when I heard Maggie mutter something incomprehensible over in the passenger seat. I looked to her, my eyes wide, feeling that very same anxiety I felt all those years ago in our shared dorm room. It was like my feelings time-traveled, a blast from the past, a telemetry of emotion, something stoppered up for years and now uncorked, a flood of awareness rushing over me. Maggie’s eyes slowly opened and she caught me looking at her. She smiled.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I dozed off.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, averting my eyes back to the road.

  “Are we getting close?”

  “Um,” I intoned, looking to the little screen suction cupped to the windshield. “The GPS says we should be hitting Omaha in like 45 minutes or so.”

  “Awesome,” said Maggie sleepily. “Thanks for driving, dearie.” She had a hugely content smile on her face and after Maggie readjusted herself in the seat, I watched as her eyes once again closed in a smooth and gradual motion. “Let me know when we can see buildings.”

  “Okay,” I said, still feeling those nerves. My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Something very odd was returning to me, something exciting but intimidating. I didn’t know what to make of it. But whatever it was, however I was feeling, I was grateful that this trip was happening. I was grateful that was I going to be spending a few weeks with Maggie, in very close quarters. And that whatever strangeness was bubbling inside of me, I knew would come to some resolution as these days of freedom revealed themselves to us.

  “Here are the instructions for everything,” said Michael. He was a sharp young man, maybe a decade younger than Maggie and I, dressed well with a nice haircut. Pointing to a piece of paper taped up near the condo’s thermostat. “And you’ll probably want to keep it cool in here.”

  “Yeah!” affirmed Maggie. “It’s like 100 degrees out there!”

  “It’s a hot one today,” smirked Michael.

  “When we left Chicago,” said Maggie. “It was in the high 70s. I had no idea it would be so hot in Omaha.”

  “Yeah, it definitely gets like this,” he said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  The condo was small but very nice, situated in the Old Market district of Omaha. A nice little downtown area with tons of restaurants, shops, cobblestone streets. Although we were only in Omaha for the night, Maggie tried to pick the hippest place for us to crash. Michael had a great location and great style with his little home. A nice fluffy couch, a big TV hanging on the wall, a guitar in the corner.

  “Here’s the bedroom,” he said, opening up the door to show off a queen sized bed covered in billowing pillows and sheets. Maggie and I looked inside with interest.

  “Just one bedroom?” I asked.

  “Just one bedroom,” replied Michael.

  “I guess I could sleep on the couch,” I said, looking over to Maggie.

  “Don’t be sil
ly,” she said. “That bed is big enough for both of us.”

  “Where do you sleep?” I asked Michael. He responded with a laugh.

  “Is this your first time doing AirBnB?” he asked teasingly.

  “It is.”

  “I go sleep over at my boyfriend’s place,” he said cheerily. “Whenever someone rents out my condo, I just set everything up and make myself scarce. In fact, I need to get moving shortly to meet him for dinner.”

  “All right,” I said. “Noted. I feel kinda silly about it now.” Michael laughed again, as did Maggie.

  “C’mon,” said Maggie, reaching over to me and pulling at my hand. “Nobody cares.”

  “So you ladies are only in Omaha for one night?” said Michael, deftly changing the subject to help me out of my social trouble. “What’s up with that?”

  “We’re just passing through,” said Maggie. “We’re heading out to Boulder.”

  “Oh, I love Boulder,” said Michael. “It’s a beautiful place. If you love outdoorsy activities, it’s heaven.”

  “We’re looking forward to it!” said Maggie. “Right Dana?”

  “Absolutely,” I said with a smile. I still felt a bit trepidatious about sharing a bed with Maggie. I mean, look, I know there’s nothing weird about it, nothing out of the ordinary, just two friends sharing a bed as they pass through town on a road trip, but these feelings brewing up inside of me really gave me pause. I knew that I was totally sexualizing Maggie in my mind, that right there was concerning enough, but I knew that sharing a bed could only make matters worse. It made my stomach ache. But not in the way it aches when you’re hungry. Something different. Something anticipatory.

  I needed to get my head on straight. I felt like I was swimming in uncharted waters.

  “Well… great!” said Michael. “I’m going to leave you ladies be. My number’s on the sheet by the thermostat. Just text me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks Michael,” said Maggie with a smile.

  After a few more pleasantries, Michael handed us the keys and took off, leaving Maggie and I alone there in the condo. We had brought all of our bags inside, feeling that typical Chicago fear of never wanting to leave anything valuable in your car overnight. It didn’t seem necessary in Omaha but you could never be sure, I guess. Big city life can do a number on you.