“Yes, you are.  It’s written all over your face.”  I looked away, “It’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m going to be there and if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll take you home.”  Bette looked at me, giving me the most sincere look possible.

**

I felt right with this group of girls, even more right than with my own group of friends back home in Atlanta.  Bette pulled into a parking space and we all piled out of her car.  Shane took the lead and easily got us inside Sugar’s.

I felt Bette’s hand interlock with mine.  The feeling of her skin on mine—I’ve never felt that way before; not with Eric, not with anyone.  I looked down at our hands and, even in the dim lights of the club; the mixture of our skin tones was so beautiful.  I traveled the length of her arm to her face.  She smiled at me.  She leaned close.

“I just want you to feel comfortable here.”

Shane was able to get a booth for us, with our own personal dancer.  Bette leaned back and, while she watched the dance, I watched her.  I just really wanted to be alone with her.

I leaned closer to her, “Can we go stand outside for a little while?”

Bette nodded and told everyone we’d be back.

“Are you okay, T?” Bette asked, once we reached the outside.

“Yeah…wait!  T?”

“Oh, sorry…”

“No, I like it.  You should call me that, but only you though.   No one else can call me T.”  I looked at my Converse-clad feet, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this to you, but I feel something from you.  I know that we’ve only known each other a week…”

“But it’s like I’ve known you for a while.”

“Yeah, and I just feel good with all of you, but I feel really good with you…”

“Like we fit together.”

“Yeah.  But Bette, I’m not gay.”

“I know.  Maybe it’s just a platonic thing.  You’re new here.”

I knew it was more than that, but I just agreed with her.

**

Bette pulled up to my house.  I never wanted the night to end, but I knew it had to.

“I hope you had a good time.” Bette said.

“I did.” I looked to the time on the dashboard, “Fuck it’s 3:30.  I told my mother I’d call her at 2.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.  It’s not your fault.  I just better get in there.”

“Okay, good luck, T.”

I smiled at the sound of my nickname.  I liked the way it rolled from her lips.

“Thanks, I’m going to need it.”

Upon entering the house, all I heard were questions.  Both of my parents spouted them out, without regard to each other.

“Where were you?  Who were you with?  Why didn’t you call us?”

“Guys, calm down.  I went out to a club.  I didn’t drink.  I didn’t do drugs.  I forgot to call because I was having fun.  And Dad,” I looked at my big, hulking father, “I was with the daughter of your new partner, Melvin Porter.”

My father looked almost relieved that I was with Bette.

“You should’ve called us.” My mother wasn’t as impressed with my name-dropping as my father was.

“I’m sorry.  I really am.  It won’t happen again.” They gave me a look that let me know if it did happen again, I’d be in really big trouble, “I’m going to go to bed.” I kissed my mom and dad both on the cheek.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered my room.  I stripped down, not caring to shower, and slid into bed.  Before I drifted off to sleep, my phone made the familiar sound to tell me I had a text message.

Bette: Hope I didn’t get you in 2 much trouble.

Me: No, I’m good.  Dad was happy I was with u.

Bette: Good.  We should hang out again.

Me: Of course. 

Bette: Have a good night, T.

Me: Goodnight, Bette.

I sighed and looked over at my picture of Eric.  I realized then that I had talked to him in a week, let alone thought of him.

What have I gotten myself into?