What I Discovered at My Best Friend’s House

Professor Bermúdez explained architectural composition with the passion of a man talking about his lover. I took notes with my back straight and my blouse buttoned all the way up to my neck, as if that discipline could somehow hide the pair of tits I’d been carrying around since I was thirteen. Beside me, Natalia chewed on the cap of a pen and laughed to herself.

—Idiot —I muttered without looking at her.

—Good morning to you too, baby.

We’d been like that since school. I was the orderly one; she was the disaster. I had huge breasts; she had the most incredible ass in the whole faculty. Anyone who saw us together thought the same thing, and everyone in the program said it under their breath: that Camila and Natalia were something more than best friends. It wasn’t true. Neither of us had been with anyone. At twenty, both of us were still virgins for different reasons and for the same reason too: we had never found someone who mattered enough.

—You’ll be working in pairs —Bermúdez announced at the end of class—. Three months, a serious project. Choose well.

Natalia looked at me with those brown eyes of hers.

—I guess we’re a team.

—I guess I don’t have a choice.

That same afternoon we went to her house. Natalia’s room was its usual chaos: clothes all over the floor, books open, three half-finished cups of coffee. We flopped onto the bed, and before I could suggest a meeting schedule, her mother knocked on the door.

—Can I come in?

—Come in, Mom.

Marisol peeked her head in with that smile that seemed not to age. At forty-five, she was still the kind of woman men turned to stare at on the street: hair pulled up in a careless bun, yoga pants, a loose T-shirt that was anything but loose on her. Marisol was Natalia’s grown-up version, with the same broad curve of hips and the same shameless sparkle in her eyes.

—How are you girls? —she asked, leaning on the doorframe.

—Fine. You didn’t have to knock, it’s your house.

—I do it out of respect, honey. And so I don’t interrupt... anything.

I felt heat climbing up my neck. Marisol said it affectionately, almost conspiratorially, but my face still burned. Natalia, on the other hand, sat up, came over to me, and planted a loud, exaggeratedly wet kiss on my cheek.

—Asshole! —I shoved her.

I looked at Marisol in panic. She raised a hand before I could apologize.

—Relax, Camila. Sometimes I wish I were too... —She smiled.— I’ll leave you girls to study.

When the door closed, I covered my face with a pillow.

—Oh my God. Your mom thinks we’re lesbians.

—So what if she does? As long as we know it’s a lie, that’s enough.

Yes. A lie.

***

We got tickets to an Advertencia concert three weeks later, in a city four hours away. My mother, who usually wouldn’t even let me breathe, only agreed when she heard that Damián, Natalia’s older brother, would be driving the car. Damián was twenty-four, had just started a new job as an engineer, and had the smile of a man who knows his mother looks at him like he walks on water. The bastard was handsome, I couldn’t deny it, though he was also an idiot.

—I have to tell you something —Natalia said that night in her room, clutching my hands like she was about to confess a crime—. Damián said he’d take us. But he wants something in return.

—What.

—He wants you to show him your tits.

The silence stretched so long I could hear the refrigerator humming downstairs. I felt disgust, shame, rage, and something else, something murky I took a while to identify: a tiny tingle from knowing someone wanted me enough to ask for that.

—Your brother is sick —I said.

—I know. I told him he was sick. But if we don’t agree, we don’t go to the concert. And my mom won’t let me go alone with you, you know that.

I thought about the tickets, the trip, the look Natalia would give me if I refused. I also thought, traitorously, about Damián looking at me with that crooked smile he used on everybody.

—I’ll do it —I said.

Natalia threw herself into my arms as if I’d saved her life. Her breasts, free under her old T-shirt, flattened against mine. For the first time that contact, which we’d been repeating since we were twelve, made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t name.

—I adore you, Cami. If you want, I’ll show him mine too so you won’t be alone.

—No need.

She was silent for a second. Then she grabbed her phone and handed it to me. Instagram was open. Sebastián, that guy from senior year Natalia had liked since last semester, had replied to a message.

“Come to the party on Friday. And bring your girlfriend.”

Natalia threw the phone onto the mattress and covered her face.

—Does everyone in this fucking faculty think we’re lesbians?

I didn’t know what to answer. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t sure the right answer was “no.”

***

That same night it happened.

We’d opened the computer to look at projects from previous years. Natalia, as always when she had to concentrate, needed something in her hands. She offered for me to sit between her legs, leaning back against her chest, like we did when we watched movies. I agreed. We both wore thin T-shirts and panties, nothing else; it was always hot in her room.

At first it was my forearms. Her fingers traced circles on my skin, that absent gesture she’d repeated since adolescence. Then they moved up to my shoulders, massaging them. And then, without warning, her hands slid down and settled over my breasts through my T-shirt.

—What are you doing? —I asked, more surprised than annoyed.

—You know I can’t focus if I don’t have something in my hands.

It was a ridiculous excuse. We both knew it. But neither of us corrected it.

Her fingers started squeezing. They found my nipples through the fabric and pinched them softly. A small moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. Natalia froze for a second, taking in what she’d just heard, and then did it again, this time on purpose.

When her hands slipped under my shirt and found my skin directly, I stopped pretending we were looking at architecture projects. The computer was still open on my thighs, showing buildings no one was looking at anymore.

—Your tits are really beautiful —she whispered against my ear. Her breath raised goosebumps along my neck.

She bit my neck just below the ear. The moan I let out this time was impossible to hide. Her right hand slid down my stomach and settled over my panties, pressing. I spread my legs without thinking, giving her access. Never, in my shy explorations alone, had I felt anything like this.

Then we heard Damián’s footsteps in the hallway.

We froze. Her hand stayed still between my thighs, my breath trapped halfway through a sigh. The footsteps passed by. But the spell had been broken. Natalia slowly pulled her hand away and I tugged my shirt back down as if I could undo what had just happened.

Neither of us said a word about it during the whole next week.

***

The following Friday I went back to her house. Marisol opened the door wearing black leggings that looked painted onto her body and a T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. Natalia had gone to the supermarket.

—Come in, sweetie. Do you want water?

I sat on the sofa. When she came back from the kitchen, she sat beside me, closer than politeness dictated. She took my hand. I felt it warm, steady, without a tremor.

—Camila, I want you to know something. This house will always be a safe place for you. No matter what.

—Thanks, Marisol, but I don’t know why...

—I saw you the other day —she said, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb—. In Natalia’s room.

The world stopped. I felt the sofa sink beneath me. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

—Relax —Marisol went on—. The secret is safe. I only want you to know that I understand. And that I’m glad it’s with you.

—We’re not... I’m not... —I stammered—. It was an accident. It won’t happen again.

—Why not?

The question hit me like a door opening in the middle of the night. Why not? It was so simple, so brutal. I had no answer.

—Because... because I don’t like girls.

Marisol nodded as if listening to a child explain why the sky is blue. She stroked my cheek with her free hand. Her touch was warm, without judgment, almost maternal, except for the way her fingers lingered a second too long on my cheekbone.

—I’m not asking you to put labels on it, Cami. I’m just asking you not to deny yourself something good out of fear. Life is too short for that. And my daughter adores you.

The front door flew open. Natalia came in carrying grocery bags, oblivious to the conversation her mother had just had with me. Marisol let go of my hand slowly enough to leave me breathless.

—Mom, I’m back. Cami, let’s go upstairs.

As we climbed the stairs behind Natalia, I felt Marisol’s eyes fixed on my back. And for the first time in my life, instead of wanting to run away, I wanted to turn around and look her straight in the face.

***

That night the four of us had dinner. Damián, sitting across from me, pretended to be focused on his phone, but his eyes kept drifting to my cleavage every few minutes. I straightened up a little more each time. For the first time in my life I felt desired, and that, I discovered, felt good too.

—Ready for the concert? —Damián asked, setting the phone face down.

—We still have time —Natalia shot back, glaring at him.

—It’s the least I can do for my sister and her girlfriend.

Natalia’s fork hit the plate.

—Idiot.

Marisol laughed, touched her son’s arm gently, and said, without looking at me:

—That wouldn’t be a bad thing, would it?

I felt two looks on me at once: Damián’s, shameless, and Marisol’s, complicit. I ate in silence for the rest of dinner.

When we went up to the room, Natalia got into bed wearing only a tank top and panties. I lay down beside her in a long T-shirt. The bedside lamp cast shadows on the walls. The silence between us this time wasn’t comfortable: it was an invitation.

—I’ve been thinking about the other day —I said, surprising myself.

Natalia went very still.

—We don’t have to talk about it, right? Those are things that happen between friends.

—Do you know other friends who do it?

Long pause. She smiled in the dark. I knew because her voice changed.

—Well... nobody has a friend as big-titted as you.

And then, without warning, she reached out and squeezed one of my breasts through my shirt. My nipple hardened instantly. Without thinking, I lifted my hand too and found hers. I squeezed. I felt her nipple hard through the fabric.

She sat up, pulled her shirt over her head, and tossed it to the floor. I did the same. We were left sitting face to face, our torsos bare, both in panties, our breathing already heavy. Natalia put her hands back on my breasts, now without a barrier. Her thumbs traced circles over my nipples, and when she leaned in and kissed my neck, I knew this time no one would pass by in the hallway. This time we weren’t going to stop.

Her hand slid down my stomach with deliberate calm, asking permission with every inch. I didn’t stop her. When her fingers crossed the waistband of my panties and found the wetness, she drew in a sharp breath.

—You’re so wet.

—So are you —I replied, sliding my hand into hers. It was true. I felt her warm, soaked, trembling under my touch.

The first touches were clumsy. Touching another woman wasn’t like touching yourself. The angles were deceptive, the pressure needed was different. But her body responded to my fingers almost at the same rhythm as mine responded to hers. I found her clit by accident and heard her moan.

—There. Right there.

I learned fast. So did she. Soon our fingers were moving in parallel circles, each of us guided by the other’s reactions: a sigh, a tremor, a hand that suddenly squeezed a shoulder. My legs tangled with hers. Our foreheads touched. Our breathing mixed together.

—A little faster —I whispered.

She obeyed. I matched the rhythm. I felt the tension building in my lower belly like a wave rising and not yet breaking.

—I’m close.

—Me too.

We came almost at the same time. Her body jolted under my fingers the exact second mine gave in. She let out a long, guttural moan; I bit my lip so I wouldn’t scream. For one eternal instant there was nothing else: not the faculty gossip, not the price her brother had asked me for, not Marisol’s complicit look when she handed me a glass of water that afternoon. Only two bodies falling at once.

Afterward we hugged. Her breasts against mine, my head resting on her shoulder, her arm around my waist. We fell asleep like that, naked, as so many other nights, but no longer like the other nights.

***

We woke face to face, tangled together, sunlight hitting our eyes. There was a moment of awkwardness. I looked away.

It was Natalia who broke the silence.

—This doesn’t have to change anything, Cami. If it makes us feel good, we keep doing it. That’s all.

I looked at her. I expected the usual complications, the nerves, the evasions. Instead there was a new calm. I nodded slowly.

—Okay.

We got dressed in silence. Before going downstairs for breakfast, I thought about Marisol waiting for us in the kitchen, about Damián crossing the hallway in boxers, about my own mother in her perfect armchair thinking her daughter was sleeping at an innocent friend’s house. I thought about everything that was no longer true, and how little I cared.

We went down.

Marisol smiled at us from the table, pouring coffee, as if she knew exactly what had happened and was giving us permission to do it again that very night.