Let’s see…

Embarrass myself by crying…? Check…!

Embarrass myself by explaining my life story to a stranger…? Check…!

Embarrass myself by revealing that I’m a lightweight in many ways…? Check!

These terrible mornings were always when my brain would bring up my most humiliating memories. Like when I woke up hungover a while back, but now, it was Monday. I hadn’t thought of that night for a good four days because I had work and I had managed to drown the memories, but all of a sudden…

“Ugh…” I groaned as I rolled over, but unfortunately, I was on the edge of my bed.

I ended up rolling right off the mattress. With my eyes wide and my mouth open as if to scream, I fell to the wooden floor with a rather loud thud. Luckily, I didn’t scream, though, only let out a nearly imperceptible squeak from the back of my throat as I fell to the floor.

I landed on my right side, groaning as I rolled onto my stomach. The floor was so cold and hard against my face and arms and legs and all of my bare skin, chilling me through even my thin sleep clothes.

“Fffuck…” I muttered into the floor, half of my lips squished against the wood.

I pushed myself up with a lot more groaning until I was sitting on my ass, leaning against my bed.

My life was so mundane and boring and repetitive. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. The only part of my life actually worth thinking of was my weekly nights spent fucking Orchid. And now, I’ve ruined even that. Fuck me.

Maybe this was a sign… Maybe this was the world telling me that I had to get my life together…

I jumped to my feet, dusting off my legs and hands before striding into my bathroom. I pulled my old white tank top from my torso and dropped it on the counter of the bathroom before pulling of my similarly old gray shorts from my ass and dropping it on top of the shirt.

I pulled my hair up into a messy bun on my head before I stepped into the shower to take my morning wash. I always washed my hair at night before bed, but sometimes I did like to take a water shower in the mornings. It depended on how I felt per day, and apparently, that Monday morning was a morning water shower day.

I stepped from the shower after washing briefly, taking some time to dry the leftover water from my skin and began my morning skin routine.

I knew a lot of people that only took care of the skin on their faces, and as much as I respected everyone’s individual opinions, I believed that one should care for their entire bodies.

So I started with a toner. Then, I focused on my base layer of moisturizer, going extra heavy on it because water tends to dry out skin, before applying lotion onto all of my surfaces.

It wasn’t as complicated as a lot of the routines I see online or hear from people I meet, but it did the job for the past few years, so I decided to stick with it. 

I didn’t wear makeup much often, usually just lipstick or something like that every now and then. It wasn’t that I thought makeup was wrong, I just didn’t like the clogging feeling it gave my skin. I didn’t think it was bad if someone else wore makeup, I didn’t judge them by that. I judged people by their personalities and actions. Makeup just wasn’t for me.

So, naked except for the towel wrapped around my torso, just barely covering my ass and tucked together above my breasts. A small, dirty part of my brain, the part that seemed to be chained in the fucking gutter, made me imagine what it would be like if I walked around like this in front of Orchid. I mean, she’s seen me naked but something about this seemed much more seductive.

I strolled through my room until I was in front of my closet. Pulled the doors open and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I twisted and turned, examining myself.

I knew Orchid was fond of me. But I… kind of didn’t understand why… I mean, I looked like a basic bitch. I was a brunette with blonde highlights, tanned skin like every other girl in California, brown eyes like mud or the shit in the toilet.

I didn’t have much ass and my breasts were small enough that someone might need a fucking map to find them.

And let’s not even talk about my personality and how fucking broken I was. Yeah, sure, I was a doctor, but so what? It wasn’t as if that made up for all my childhood trauma, my social anxiety, how fucking awkward I was, and so on and so on…

I wrinkled my nose as I tried to shake the negative thoughts from my head. I was sure that every single woman in the world… no, every single motherfucking person in the world hated something about themselves, whether it was their hair or face or skin or personality or whatever. I don’t think anyone in the world loved everything about themselves, so why should I beat myself up? No one cares, they’re all too focused on themselves. So maybe I should try?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Held it for a moment before blowing out my cheeks and letting the air out of my lungs like a balloon. Reopened my eyes.

My eyes are warm and brown, just like chocolate syrup. Yes, my right eye was slightly larger than my left, but did it matter? No, it didn’t, so I leaned in, admiring them instead of judging them. Gold flecks, green flecks, reflections from the light in the mirror. Streaks of light brown and some of dark brown, all to make my eyes like no one else’s in the entire world.

My nose was small, petitie, a soft bridge with a small bump between my eyes, but that’s nice. It’s something to identify myself with, a special quirk. And maybe some people don’t like it, but I do. At least, now I do.

My lips were soft, not chapped at all. I didn’t like how the ends of my lips were wide and not pointed and thin, making me look like a fish, but it made my lips look plumper than they were. I told myself that, anyway. And they were always pink, though sometimes pale enough to make me look dead, but right now, they were bright enough that it looked naturally rosy.

I was thin. This was a blessing, to be naturally thin. Lots of men and women and other various genders struggled with their bodies. Didn’t like how thin or not they were, the amount of muscle whether it was plentiful or not. I was happy that I was rather thin, and though I didn’t have much muscle, at least I… I think I looked nice in a dress at least. And that was good, even if I did have stomach rolls.

My hair was soft, I thought to myself as I ran my hands through my locks and over my left shoulder. Brown as it was, I was happy with the color and the various variations.

And even if there were parts of my personality that I didn’t like, at least I liked myself enough to get by. I’m pretty enough, by my own standards, and if I really needed, I could just get therapy for all my… uh, issues.

Satisfied, I gave myself a nod, fierceness burning in my eyes as I turned to my wardrobe and pulled out a pair of dark navy jeans and a white shirt covered in overlapping pastel sky blue flowers. Their centers were yellow and covered in glitter, and as much as it resembled a child’s shirt, I liked it. And my patients did, too.

Once dressed, I grabbed my purse and stuffed it with my belongings. Then, I stepped outside of my room and closed the door behind me. Walked down the short, thin hallway until I was in the kitchen. Checked my schedule on my phone along with the time to see if I had enough time to eat breakfast.

“Morning,” a voice called from the kitchen table, and I looked up to see Diane. She was wearing a pale pink dress, mid-shin length with a dark fuschia sash and bow around her waist. I smirked at her, shutting off my phone and zipping it up in my bag. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, I guess,” I said with a slight frown. “Sorta had a bit of a… revelation this morning, if you could even call it that.” I pulled a chair out from our small, four-chaired table. She pushed the plate of toast, one of cream cheese and another with strawberry jam spread on top. “Thanks,” I told her as I picked up the two slices and smushed them together into a much less sticky breakfast sandwich. “How was your night?” I asked her after swallowing my bite. “And where have you been last week? You were suddenly gone, like, three times.”

She fiddled with her fingers, watching herself picking at her own cuticles in that habit of hers. This was what she always did when she was nervous or shy about something, especially things involving other people. So I just waited. I knew she’d tell me when she was ready, whether that was today right now or maybe in an hour or maybe in a week. But judging from the way she was glancing at me and biting her lip, she seemed bursting at the fucking seams to say, so…

“I might be sorta, uh… seeing someone?” she said as she shyly scrunched her shoulders up to her ears. “Surprise?”

My mouth full of crunchy bread and sweet spread, I stared at her, a multitude of emotions and thoughts flying and tangling around my head.

Shock at the fact that she was dating, sadness and a bit of anger that she didn’t feel like she could tell me, but then shame because wasn’t I technically dating Orchid? And then, eventually, I felt happy for her and the fact that she finally found someone. I had always assumed I’d have to push her into the dating field even when I was just as inadequate as she was… though I guess I did take the ‘leap of faith’ before she did.

So I laughed. Threw my head back and laughed through my bite of toast, effectively choking a bit. So then I leaned forward, coughing and laughing at the same time as I tried to hack the small piece of my toast sandwich from the back of my throat.

Teary-eyed, I looked up at my sister and her bewildered expression, which only made me laugh even harder.

But at last, my giggles subsided and I wiped the tears from my face. I sat up straight in my seat and smiled at my sister.

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you for telling me. But I guess this means I should tell you something, too.” I set my half eaten sandwich down on the plate and turned to fully face my sister. “I guess… I might, sorta, maybe, possibly be dating someone… too?”

She deserved to know, but I wouldn’t tell her about the whole… the whole whore prostitute paid-sex part… just that it might be dating? Ish?

“I-I really, er, like them,” I told her, unsure of whether I should refer to her as her or just keep that part… secret for now. I mean, I didn’t know if she was open to that… Or maybe she was secretly a lesbian too and was just as scared as I was! I didn’t know! “But I-I’m not quite sure if we’re… dating…”

“Huh?” she said, her mouth wide and her eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean you’re not sure? Wouldn’t you know if you’re dating or not?”

I just lifted my shoulders up to my ears in a shrug, my face wide and just as confused as hers. And she rolled her eyes and scoffed amusedly, causing us both to break out in small giggles.

“We should get to work, huh?” I said, picking my sandwich back up and biting in, holding it in my mouth so that my hands would be free to pick up my things. After I had gathered all I needed and had a free hand, I bit completely through the sandwich and took it in my hand again. Chewed and swallowed as she stood and gathered her own items.

“Of course,” she said, pulling her own bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

…

Work went by smoothly, but there was something different about today.

I decided to forgo coffee.

Now I felt absolutely terrible, but also somehow fucking amazing. My head felt so heavy and my mind felt sluggish, but I could think clearer, all around generally better thoughts and ideas.

So as I was sitting at my desk, rolling around in circles in my office chair as I smiled at the thought of how long it would take to fully recover from needing caffeine. It would be a long, rather painful trek, but one worth it in the end.

But then my tired gaze got caught on one of the tabs open on my computer. My email inbox… my… school email inbox…

And, of course, remembering that email at the top of the list, I also remembered that night with Grayson and that-that girl.

I knew her back in the day, right? Who was she?

She had short dark hair… And she was super fucking tall… Her voice was so soft, too, so velvety, though maybe that was enhanced due to the fact that I happened to be drunk as fuck… And she had a wonderful lopsided smile.

Now that I knew I was relatively lesbian, it made sense that I found her attractive. She was just as fucking hot as Orchid was with short near-black hair and pale skin and a silky voice and… a lopsided… smile…

My eyes widened as I came to a slowly spinning halt facing my couch. A couch just like the super strong girl had laid me on…

The tall, strong girl who beat Grayson to hell and back. Her velvety voice and lopsided lips, just like hers.

I knew my brain was just going around and around in circles, repeating these same thoughts and observations over and over, but I couldn’t seem to process anything past these fucking facts.

But then I heard her voice in my head, echoing in my ears as if she were whispering them to me all over again.

Hey! What the fuck’s happening here?

Well, let’s ask the lady. Want this to be my business?

So apparently this is my business, too. Bitch.

No. How fucking dare you, motherfucker.

Well, this girl certainly did curse the same amount as Orchid did. But that didn’t prove anything, did it?

But then a strange picture entered my mind. It was blurry and dancing like I was watching a dream in my mind’s eye.

The faceless, nameless girl sitting in that cheap armchair, a table beside her. Her hand holding a red glass, glowing in some random light. I watched as she set the glass down on the table and leaned forward, crossing her right leg over her left… and my dream’s gaze focused on those boots, those mother. Fucking. Boots.

Black with three inch platform heels. Tall enough to go nearly up to her knee and tied all the way from her toes to the end of the fabric on her mid-shin with a piece of black string. It was all shiny, with a few metal details added like buckles and studs.

These boots… I’ve seen these boots… Only one person that I’ve seen has these boots.

I’m Raven, Raven Paek, though you might remember me as Carissa.

Her voice rang through my head again, so much clearer than before, and I recognized it to be Orchid’s voice.

What the motherfucking shitty ass fuck show is this?

Orchid was Carissa? Or, I guess it’s Raven now, but still!

Orchid, the hot prostitute who’s smart and witty and so fucking good at fucking? That’s Raven? My classmate from highschool? The one who I shared my first kiss with?

But then that exact memory sprang back to smack me across the face.

Her eyes were the exact same back then. Her mouth was the exact same back then. That small birthmark, the little tiny dot on the middle of her cheek, was the exact same back then.

The taste of her mouth, the way she moved her tongue (though I had to say, she was a lot more experienced now), even the way she carefully went for the kiss and scanned the way I was feeling.

Holy fucking shit, my first fucking kiss! With her! How the flying fuck did I somehow forget that?

And now we were fucking! Weekly!

I needed to lay down…