Keeping it Together Page 5

  "So," Alisha said as she leaned back in her seat, arms hanging over the back, "did you always know you liked women or—"

  Sian almost spat out a mouthful of milkshake; it was only with a good deal of effort that she managed to keep it in and avoid splattering Alisha's top with strawberry milk and spit. She coughed and straightened up again.

  Alisha was smirking, looking both amused and bemused. "Did I say something funny?"

  "No, I just… I don't know. I never really thought about it before." Sian shrugged awkwardly, staring down at her milkshake.

  When Alisha didn't say anything in response, Sian continued, trying to fill the awkward silence. "I mean, I know I like you. And I've never really been that interested in boys, but… I don't know if that means I like all girls."

  Alisha gave a low, soft chuckle. "Nobody likes all girls. Just some girls, or maybe lots of girls, but never all of them."

  "You're gay, then?" Sian asked, feeling the heat rising in her face again.

  "Bisexual, actually. Although I prefer women."

  Sian stirred the straw in her milkshake, making the remains swirl round and round. She'd never been referred to as a woman before, directly or indirectly, and it made her feel strange. Technically, it was accurate—she was, after all, legally an adult—but she couldn't help but feel like it wasn't the right term; she still just felt like a girl.

  "That's not a problem, is it?"

  Sian looked up, shaking her head vehemently. "No," she said. "No, I don't care one way or the other, so long as…" She trailed off, hesitant.

  "So long as I like you?" Alisha filled in for her. "Which, by the way, I do."

  "Can I get either of you anything else?" the waitress asked, seeming to appear out of nowhere, dislodging the comfortable, happy silence that had settled down around them.

  Alisha glanced at her, eyebrows raised in a question, and Sian nodded. Her next lesson wasn't for another hour. They had plenty of time, although she suspected it would hardly seem like enough at the end. Alisha ordered another coffee, and this time, Sian went with a cup of tea—she could probably have managed another milkshake, but really, she felt she'd thrown up in front of Alisha once too often already.

  "College then," Alisha said, filling the silence. "What do you do there?"

  Sian listed her subjects for her and enjoyed the way Alisha smiled, like a smug cat that had been raiding the fridge.

  "I pegged you for an art student," she said, leaning back and crossing an ankle over her knee. "Or at the very least, humanities. Why the business, though? Isn't that, like, incredibly boring?"

  Sian laughed. She wished she sounded the way Alisha did when she did it, all confidence. Instead, she came out sounding like a schoolgirl giggling at the word sex in a dictionary. "It is boring. But my parents thought if I was going to do art and stuff, I should have something I could make use of along with them. And it makes sense," she continued, noting the way Alisha's jaw twitched when she mentioned her parents. "If I do okay in business, I could open my own shop or something later on. As much as I love them, arty subjects don't do that much good from an economic, job-searching perspective."

  "Is that what your parents say?" Alisha asked, plucking the cigarette from behind her ear.

  Sian frowned. "Well, yeah, it's what my dad says, but it's true. If I need something to fall back on, then it looks good on a CV."

  Alisha looked thoughtful for a moment, rolling the cigarette over between her fingers before slotting it back behind her ear. "You know, somebody once told me that you shouldn't have a plan B if plan A is what you really want. You have to know what you want and go for it, and plan B just gets in the way; it makes you think, 'Well, it's okay if I fail at this because I've always got this other thing if it all goes wrong,' and it will go wrong, you know, because that's life. But if you don't have your plan B, you have to just get back up and try again. You have to make plan A work, because it's all you've got, and it might be really fucking hard, but ultimately, you'll be happier, you know?"

  Sian thought about that for a moment, then said, slowly, "But what if, even though A is your passion, you completely suck at it? You'd spend your whole life deluding yourself."

  Alisha shrugged. "But wouldn't you be happier?"

  "No, because it would never work. You'd spend your whole life futilely trying to succeed, but never being good enough to actually do so."

  "You'd succeed if you had to, if you wanted it badly enough. It doesn't matter if you're shit. You'll either get better or get popular eventually. That's my point. If there's no plan B, you have to be good at what you do. It's never about talent, you know. Talent's just what people call it because they haven't seen the learning curve; they haven't seen the sweat and blood and tears you've poured into your art. All they see is some chick with a guitar, bouncing onto the stage and rocking their fucking socks off, and they don't think about the hours you've spent practicing, or the days when you've moped in bed with a bottle and a bar of chocolate because you know you'll never be as good as Hendrix. They just see the here and now, so they call it talent. But it's not. Everything takes years of practice, it takes resilience, it takes love and determination. And if there's no plan B, you have to put down the beer or the chocolate, get out of bed, get dressed, and get better, because there is no other option."

  "Well, I mean, right now I don't even know what plan A is, but the chances are, if I'm making art, I'll be selling it too, right? So business still makes a lot of sense."

  Alisha laughed, a deep, rich sound that vibrated through her and made Sian smile, bemused, not knowing what she'd said to induce it. "Guess I did go a bit off the deep end there, huh? You're right, business makes sense. Even if it does bore you to death."

  "You were right too, though. I guess when I figure out what I want from life, I shouldn't settle for less because I'll never be happy if I do."

  "Right, and you unhappy would be such a tragic waste. I mean, look at that smile. You have dimples, for fuck's sake."

  Sian blushed, feeling Alisha's eyes boring into her, glittering with something more than just amusement, making her skin tingle. She had to repress a shiver, and instead poured her attention into her tea, which was already beginning to cool.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you." Alisha sounded apologetic, but when Sian looked up, she was still smiling.

  "It's easily done," she admitted with a grimace.

  A soft chuckle. "Well, that's good to know."

  "Oh, trust me, if you use it against me, I will fight back."

  "That's rather what I was hoping for."

  This time, it wasn't just her face that heated up—she felt suddenly warm all over, her skin buzzing with electricity as Alisha watched her, too attentive, too cool and calculating to be comfortable, something like the lion closing in on its prey in her gaze. Sian bit her lip, and then released it again in favour of bringing her glass up to drink. As she did so, her eyes landed on the clock that hung by the door.

  There was a clatter as she set the glass back down with a thud, scooping up her bag and jacket. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, talking too fast. "The time—I'm late for my next lesson."

  Alisha rose from her seat, catching Sian's wrist, fingers curling around and pressing lightly into the skin that covered thin blue veins. She felt her heartbeat quicken at the contact and wondered if Alisha could feel it, too. "Stay," she said, not demanding, not pleading, nothing but light suggestion in her voice. "You're already late, so stay."

  "I can't. There's an essay I have to hand in and we're meant to be doing group work today, and I'll spend the whole time worried because I should be somewhere else. I have to—"

  "Okay. I'll walk back with you," Alisha said, fumbling in her pockets for change and leaving a tip on the table. She waved to the waitress as they left and walked at a trot down the street.

  "Do you mind?" She waved the cigarette, already pulling a zippo from her pocket.

  Sian shook her head, her pace slowing as she waited for
Alisha to light up. Smoking had never particularly appealed to her before, but watching Alisha's smooth hands cup around it, her mouth curling around the butt as she flicked the lighter, once, twice, three times before it burst into a small flame, the tip of the cigarette glowing as she inhaled her first drag... Well, Sian couldn't claim that it did nothing for her. She thought maybe she could just sit and watch Alisha smoke for hours.

  A cloud of smoke swirled out from Alisha's mouth as they walked. Usually, when Sian had seen people smoking outside of pubs or office buildings before, they blew it, forcing it out. When Alisha did it, she simply opened her mouth, letting it drift away from her in a soft sigh before drawing in the next drag.

  Gates in sight, Sian was about to hurry through them when Alisha caught the collar of her jacket, making her stumble backwards. Arms wrapped around her waist, and she turned to find herself pressed up against Alisha, breath hot on her skin. She leaned up as Alisha stooped slightly, meeting in the middle, their lips barely half a centimetre apart.

  Sian drew in a shaky breath, and their lips met, a light brush that was almost tickling, until Alisha pressed harder, catching Sian's bottom lip in a nip of teeth, pulling up and closing in again for a second, deeper kiss. There was a taste of coffee and smoke, something that should be unpleasant, but despite the bitter, smoky tang, Sian pressed closer, meeting Alisha's heat and insistence with her own.

  Reluctantly, they drew apart, Alisha's hands slipping from Sian's waist. "Can I see you tomorrow?" she asked, a slight pout to her lips.

  Sian nodded. "I have three hours free at the same time tomorrow," she said, suddenly glad she hadn't taken an extra subject to use up her free periods.

  "Until tomorrow, then." Alisha grinned, and Sian walked away, taking just one small backward glance as she headed towards the art block. The looming red brick building no longer felt like quite as much freedom as it had been just a few hours ago.

  *~*~*

  "So where the hell were you this afternoon?" Tilly asked as they waited for the bus. She was leaning against the fence that divided one bus stop from another, her ankles crossed. Sian hadn't managed to get back before the last bell, although she had caught the teacher as she was leaving the room to hand in her essay and make her excuses.

  She wasn't sure she was ready to share the afternoon in all its details with Tilly, but there was no point in lying. They'd known each other since primary school, and Tilly would see right through any lie she offered up.

  "I was with Alisha," she said, trying very hard to keep her tone casual.

  "Oh, yeah?" Tilly grinned, a wolfish sort of look on her face that meant she definitely wanted details. "And?"

  "And what?"

  "What happened? How did it go? Do you like her? And when are we actually going to talk properly about this?"

  "It went well," Sian answered, a small smile betraying her efforts at being nonchalant. "I had fun. And we don't need to talk about it."

  "Don't we? Come off it, you've never acted this way around anyone else. You don't think that's something to talk about?"

  "What way?" she asked, caught off guard. She hadn't thought she'd been acting differently at all.

  "Lighter. I don't know, more... jovial. When you're not being pissy with me, anyway. You like her, and that's... I don't know, I just kind of think it's a big deal. And I'm your friend, I want to hear about it."

  Sian crossed her arms and frowned. She didn't see why whatever was going on with Alisha was any of Tilly's business. "Why? You've liked a bunch of guys, and you don't tell me every detail."

  "But I tell you the important things. Besides, that's guys. I've never liked a girl before. You might not think it makes a difference right now, but eventually, it will."

  "Oh, will it?" Sian snapped, suddenly angry. She didn't want to think about 'eventually.' For once in her life she was enjoying the present, and if Tilly thought it made a difference that she was enjoying it with a girl and not a guy, well, she wasn't as liberal as she'd always claimed to be.

  "You know I don't mean it like that. It's just... your parents. When would you tell them?"

  "I don't know." She sighed, her anger deflating at the thought. "Is 'never' an option?"

  "Oh, right. So you're going to run off into the sunset, are you? Great idea."

  "Sounds like a good one to me," Sian muttered.

  The expressions she could picture on her parents' faces if she told them about Alisha were not expressions she ever wanted to see for real. And right now, she was in enough trouble with them without adding to it.

  They sat in silence for the whole bus ride home, until they turned into Tilly's street and she stood up, pressing the bell as she turned back to Sian. "If you want to talk, you know I'm around," she said, and made her way through the press of bodies as the bus came to a halt.

  Sian watched her walk away from the stop, getting smaller and smaller as the bus got further away. She got off at her stop and stood there for a moment, breathing in the cool evening air and savouring the stillness. Her skin tingled, face heating as she remembered that kiss—Alisha's hands at the small of her back, the warmth of her body pressed close, the smoky taste of her mouth.

  She crunched up the gravel drive to the front door and turned the key in the lock, not really seeing it. Instead, she was seeing Alisha's moss-green eyes, the way her mouth pressed around the end of her cigarette, smoke curling away from her as she slowly exhaled.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, she made her way upstairs to her room. She wished she could wrap herself up in that moment forever, just replay it over and over again and never have to move on to the next scene.

  *~*~*

  Alisha barely had time to kick off her boots before Bolan was meowing and rubbing himself against her ankles in a greeting that was more demand than affection. Sighing, she scooped some food into his bowl.

  Once he was happily tucking into his dinner, she slipped through into the hallway and pushed open the door to the spare room that, when advertised, had declared itself to be a spacious second bedroom, but when she'd viewed the place had revealed itself to be little bigger than a cupboard. Still, it was enough to store her guitars in, and that was all she needed.

  Grabbing her acoustic from the corner it had been relegated to, she headed back into the living room and cleared the cushions away from the two-seater sofa. She sat down, the guitar laid across her lap.

  She pulled a pad of paper towards her on the coffee table, slotting a pencil behind her ear just in case she wanted to write anything down. She had a tune in her head that had been going round for the past hour, and she was itching to hear how it sounded when played out loud. It was a soft melody, more suited to acoustic than electric.

  She hummed to herself as she played, backtracking and repeating bits, scrawling down notes and chords and the odd lyric or two. The words, in her experience, usually fell into place later; the music was the real emotion, and the words only reflected it, highlighted it. The music was where her soul went.

  It was different for others, she knew. Johnny wrote first, played later, and Mac did both simultaneously. Hugo didn't write at all; he left the lyrics to those more suited to it. For Alisha, the words were important, and she would spend hours later trying to get them right, trying to make them fit, adjusting parts of the song around them, but right now, it was the music that mattered.

  The sun set behind her as she played, and she kept going well into dusk. Eventually, she stopped, putting down the guitar to turn on the light and grab a beer from the fridge. There was leftover Chinese sitting on the shelf; seeing it, she suddenly realised how hungry she was.

  She ate at the desk, opening up her laptop to check her social media and e-mail. She chuckled softly to herself as she deleted the various advertisements for Viagra and penis enhancements, before starting to read the real mail.

  She rolled her eyes at the one from her mother, telling her how wonderful life was in California and citing a bunch of names Alisha didn't recognise. Th
ere were a couple telling her the records she'd ordered had been dispatched, and one from an old friend she hadn't spoken to in years, inviting her to play at his bar in Exeter one Thursday night that month. Reaching for her diary, she checked the dates, found two Thursdays free, then clicked on the Facebook tab and sent a message to the guys. She got a reply from Johnny right away, confirming the second Thursday, but not the first. The others would take longer to reply, she knew; Mac hardly used his computer at all, but he usually checked it briefly every couple of days for important messages.

  While she was online she decided to do what she'd been putting off for a while now. Typing Sian's name into the search bar, she clicked on her picture and pressed the 'Add Friend' tab. It would take a while for Sian to confirm it, she knew, but that wasn't important. What was important was the message—she wanted to make this thing between them something permanent, wanted it to progress into something more. It was nothing more than clicking a button, but she trusted Sian knew what it meant: that she wanted to see her again, and again after that, and after that. She wasn't looking years ahead, but weeks, definitely, and months, hopefully.

  She just hoped Sian was thinking along similar lines.

  Seven

  The next afternoon, Sian met Alisha in the park. They fed the ducks, bought ice-creams and coffee and sat on a bench watching the water voles scuttling along the banks. It was comfortable, and Sian couldn't think of a time when she'd been so relaxed, so completely happy. It was as though they were sitting in a safe haven, a paradise away from the outside world, and all the worries of that other place, that other life, fell away at the gates.

  The sky was beginning to grey, and both of them had slipped their outer layers back on. Their shoulders were touching, the pair of them settled against one another. Alisha was talking about some band Sian had never heard of before, and she'd stopped listening to what she was saying, just taking in the smooth flow of her voice, the rise and fall in pitch and tone.

  She could have sat there forever, and even when the first drops of rain began to fall, Sian was reluctant to move.