My departure could have been the dictionary definition for awkward. After Kelly cut me down, I just sat there for a minute, absorbing the shards. I could still taste her in my mouth, smell her on my skin, and yet she was already busy pushing me away. There are words for that, but the first one that comes to my mind is bitch.
What in the hell drew me so strongly to them?
Thing is, I don’t have to ask the question. I just know. I can’t answer
in words; it was more like the feeling that I got when I was around them. Like
I’d known them from somewhere else, or if I hadn’t, that I somehow wanted to
know them. The draw was different with each of them. With Danny it was more
sexual, more located between the legs. With Kelly it was something different,
more complex, something straddling the line between love and loathing. I wanted
both to get to know her and to spit in her face, and that had nothing to do with
any sort of jealousy surrounding Danny. It was that low-level tension that two
people – usually two women – get between each other. You can’t run from it, even if you can’t
always resolve it.
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