The Friend Who Swore She Only Liked Men

Noa had never needed to brag for people to look at her. It was enough for her to cross the university courtyard in her short skirt, her deliberately laddered stockings, and her nails painted a different pattern every week for heads to turn without even trying to hide it. She was twenty years old, petite, and had pale skin that contrasted with everything else: the dark eyeliner, the style halfway between goth and something more ethereal, and a personality that was nowhere near as fragile as her appearance.

She was bisexual, and she had never hidden it. In the months she’d been at university she’d had a couple of flings, a brief thing that never went anywhere, and a more serious relationship with Daniela, a tall, dominant girl who had left her with the habit of looking for exactly that in other people. But if she had to choose, Noa knew it clearly: she liked women. The way they occupied space, the way they laughed, the way they looked at her when they thought she didn’t notice.

That was why the first semester of the year found her bored, sitting in a filler elective that had nothing to do with her major. Administration of something. The full name slid right off her. The only redeeming thing was that the class was held in a huge auditorium packed with new people.

—Can I sit here? —a voice asked beside her—. Or is it taken?

Noa looked up. The girl pointing at the seat next to her had tanned skin, dark brown hair tied back halfway, and eyes that never quite decided where to land.

—Sit down —Noa said, and went back to her phone as if she didn’t care.

—Thanks. I’m late again. I’m Marina.

—Noa.

—Nice to meet you.

***

They became friends with that suspicious ease people have when, deep down, they’re looking for something else. Marina was twenty-five, five years older than Noa, and had a confident way of speaking that only cracked when the topic got too close to herself. She was studying to finish a degree she’d started late, lived alone, and, according to the insistence with which she said it—almost tender to Noa—was heterosexual.

—But really heterosexual, okay? —she’d say, as if someone had accused her of the opposite—. Me? Men. Always.

—Nobody asked you —Noa would reply, biting back a smile.

The problem was that nobody had to ask her. Marina brought it up on her own, over and over, until the claim started to sound less like truth and more like a wall she reinforced every night herself.

Noa noticed it early. She noticed the way Marina watched her when she thought she was distracted, that glance that dropped a second too long over her legs before returning to the screen. She noticed how uncomfortable she got when some guy stared at Noa for too long, annoyance Marina justified as a friend’s protectiveness but which smelled like something else.

I’m closer to you than you think, Noa thought, and did nothing. She wasn’t in a hurry. She had learned that women like Marina weren’t won by pushing, but by letting doubt do its work.

***

The excuse arrived in the form of an exam. The elective, boring as it was, still had to be passed, and neither of them had opened the notes until three days before. They agreed to study at Marina’s apartment, which was closer and, more importantly, empty.

Noa arrived with a bottle of wine they didn’t plan to touch until they were done, and ended up touching before they even started. The apartment was small and warm, with half-burned candles and a stack of books that didn’t seem to belong to anyone’s course. They sat on the floor, against the sofa, with their notes spread between them.

They really studied for an hour. Then less. The wine loosened their sentences, and Marina started talking about things she didn’t say at university: a boyfriend who had left her feeling like she was nothing, the sensation of always arriving late to her own life.

—And you? —Marina asked, twirling the glass between her fingers—. How do you know what you like? I mean… so sure.

Noa looked at her for a moment before answering.

—I didn’t always know. But at some point I stopped fighting it.

—And you never get confused?

—It’s not confusion —Noa said softly—. Sometimes it’s just fear dressed up as confusion.

The silence that followed was different from the earlier ones. Denser. Marina lowered her eyes to the glass, then to Noa’s legs, bent beneath her body, and this time she didn’t look away in time.

—You’re looking at me —Noa said, without reproach.

—It’s not what… —Marina stopped. Swallowed—. I don’t know what I’m doing.

—You don’t have to know.

***

Noa didn’t pounce. She moved slowly, just enough to close the distance, and let Marina make the last choice. She brushed the back of her hand with two fingers, barely, and felt Marina’s whole body tense and surrender in the same gesture.

—If you want me to stop, say it and I’ll stop —Noa murmured, her lips close to Marina’s cheek.

Marina didn’t say stop. She turned her face, and the first kiss was clumsy, almost a question, until Noa held her neck and turned it into an answer. Marina made a low sound against her mouth, something between shock and relief, like someone finally letting out a breath they’d been holding for years.

—This is wrong —Marina whispered, without pulling away.

—I don’t believe you —Noa replied, and kissed her again.

She slid her hand up her thigh, over the fabric of her pants, feeling the tremor running through the other girl’s skin. Marina let her and at the same time clung to her, unsure whether to stop her or ask for more. Noa knew that indecision. She knew how to wait for it.

—Look at me —she said.

Marina opened her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was ragged, and all the certainty with which she’d said “me? men” had fallen apart on that sofa.

—Tell me what you want —Noa insisted, touching her no more, leaving her on the edge of her own decision.

—I want —Marina said, in a thread of a voice—. Don’t make me say it again.

That was enough.

***

Noa took off her shirt slowly, uncovering the tanned skin she had imagined so many times, and took a second just to look at her. Marina covered herself on instinct and Noa gently moved her hands away.

—Don’t hide. I want to see you.

She laid her back on the rug, between the forgotten notes, and started kissing her neck, her collarbone, the hollow between her breasts. Every kiss drew a new sound from Marina, more honest than the last. Noa wasn’t in a hurry: she would move down a centimeter, wait, feel how the body beneath her begged her to keep going, and only then continue.

—You’re impossible —Marina panted—. Why are you going so slow?

—Because you’ve spent months denying yourself this —Noa answered against her skin—. I want you to feel everything.

She unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down over her hips, sliding her palm along the inner side of her thighs. Marina closed her legs for a moment, not out of rejection but from the intensity of what she was feeling, and Noa opened them again with a gentle, firm pressure.

—Easy —she murmured—. Trust me.

When she finally touched her, over the already wet underwear, Marina arched her back and bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out. Noa pulled away the last garment and stroked her with calculated slowness, reading every reaction, adjusting the rhythm to the way Marina’s hips had begun moving on their own against her hand.

—Not like that… not like that I’m not going to last —Marina stammered.

—You don’t have to last.

Noa moved down her body, leaving a trail of kisses along her stomach, and settled between her legs. The first contact of her mouth made Marina bury her fingers in her hair and let out a long, unrestrained moan, the sound of someone who has stopped fighting what she wants. Noa held her by the hips, kept her open, and worked her tongue in a patient rhythm that slowly built, feeling every muscle in Marina’s body tightening like a string.

—Don’t stop —Marina begged, and for the first time there wasn’t a single doubt in her voice—. Please, don’t stop.

She didn’t stop. She brought her to the edge and held her there, right on the limit, until Marina stopped thinking about what was right or wrong and gave herself over completely. The orgasm shook her in waves, with a rough sound that ended in a broken laugh, almost disbelieving, as she covered her eyes with her forearm.

***

Afterward they lay sprawled on the rug, among their clothes and the ruined notes, getting their breath back. Marina kept staring at the ceiling, with a smile that wouldn’t quite fade.

—Don’t say anything —she asked.

—I wasn’t going to say anything —Noa replied, resting her head on Marina’s chest—. Except that I don’t believe you about men anymore.

Marina burst out laughing and tugged her hair, gently.

—Asshole.

—Really heterosexual, huh? —Noa mimicked her.

—Shut up.

They stayed like that for a long while, in silence, with no need to give anything a name. Marina absently stroked her back with the tips of her fingers, and at some point Noa felt her turn toward her, looking for her again.

—What if I was confused my whole life? —Marina asked quietly.

Noa looked at her. There was no wall anymore, no rehearsed line, no earlier insistence. Just a woman looking at her honestly for the first time.

—It’s not confusion —Noa repeated, and kissed her—. I already told you what it was.

They both took the exam, of course, without studying. They barely passed. Neither of them cared much: by then they had far more interesting things to review, and a small apartment with half-burned candles where no one was going to interrupt them.