Page 3 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“Didn’t you tell her?” Billie said whilst casually rolling her suitcase over by the kitchen door.
“No, I felt bad.” It had always been a problem of mine. The thought of offending someone made myinsides bubble with fear-fuelled anxiety. Instead, I would spend the next three weeks until they started to fall out looking like a modern day Furby.
“I like them,” Sarah said.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Sarah Allen and I had been best friends since high school. She was the loyal, dependable friend everyone needed. We fell out once over our difference in opinions about a girl she was dating, but aside from that our friendship had been solid. We lived together for a short period of time in our early twenties. The small circle lesbian curse had never swayed our judgment or our feelings towards each other. We were like sisters through thick and thin. She recently turned twenty-nine, so the holiday was also a celebration of her final year as a twenty-something.
“What’s that?” I pointed towards the piece of string dangling like a necklace across Sarah’s chest.
She put a purring Lady to the floor and pulled on the toggle around her neck. A wide brimmed bucket hat appeared over her shoulder; she smoothed her hair behind her ears and adjusted the hat to fit.
“I’m trying something new. What do you think?” She crossed her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side.
“Interesting,” I said.
“You don’t like it, do you?” Sarah asked.
“No, I think it’s actually pretty cool.”
Billie looked up from fussing Gaga and raised her eyebrow typically. “It depends; are we going fishing in Mexico? Or—”
Sarah used hermiddle finger to respond.
“I hope you didn’t spend too much money on it. You should’ve just asked; my grandad has a collection in his shed.” Billie winked.
Sarah knocked the hat off her head and proceeded to press her fingers hard into Billie’s collarbone. Let the fun commence, I thought.
Billie Hughes was also my best friend. We’d met through work six years ago. She was the most witty, hilarious, and cleverly sarcastic person I’d ever met. She was sweet-natured, fun, extremely practical, and unequivocally unbothered by people’s opinion. That’s what I loved about her. I introduced Sarah to Billie at my twenty-third birthday party, and we’d been inseparable ever since.
Unlike me and Sarah, Billie was straight—supposedly. The jury was still out on that one. I tried to coax it out of her in the first few years. She had a strong personality, loved sports, and had a long string of unsuccessful relationships with men. Now, I’m not saying that makes you a lesbian, but it certainly makes you the subject of speculation. Anyone that met Billie assumed she was gay, and she was fine with that.
Speaking of dating, she’d just started dating a fireman with a very hairy back and questionable eating habits. Billie was full disclosure with me. She told meeverything, whether I liked it or not.
“How are things going with Dean?” I asked.
“They’re not.”
“Oh. What happened?”
“He sweats,” she said casually whilst riffling through the cupboards in the kitchen. “Ah-ha.” Billie held up a small plastic sandwich bag and began emptying the contents of my tea jar into it.
“Okay, you’re going to have to elaborate.”
“We had sex; he climbed on top, after a few minutes he started to sweat, and I mean there were drops of liquid forming on the end of his nose and dripping down onto my face like a leaky tap. It gave me theick.” She shuddered.
“Eww.” Sarah gagged.
Eww indeed. “Now, if that were a woman—”
“Oh yeah, that’s hot!” Sarah clarified.
“Seriously? You would be okay with that?” Billie asked.
“I would welcome that,” Sarah expressed. She flicked open her phone and pulled up a social media profile of one of her many ex-girlfriends. “She’s hot, right?” She aimed the question at Billie.
