I chuckled, “Okay.”

“Okay.  I’ll see you around, Tina.”

“Yeah…” I watch her walk away.  She’s got a great ass too.

I couldn’t believe what I was thinking after meeting this girl for the first time.  I wasn’t a lesbian.

I’m not a lesbian!

I have a boyfriend.

Eric is a great guy.  He’s sweet and attentive, caring and funny, and so cute.  My parents and sister loved him.

So do I.

I rush off to my first class, Ceramics 3.  I had taken Ceramics at my old school and considered myself pretty skilled at making a candy dish or a nice flowerpot.

As I enter the classroom, Bette is sitting at one of the tables with a group of girls.  One of the girls is resting her head on her shoulder.  I swear what I’m feeling mimics jealousy, but I don’t know her well enough for that emotion.  I sit at a table behind Bette and her friends.

“Are you stalking me, New Girl?” Bette asks, turning around to smile at me.  The girl lifted her head off Bette’s shoulder and looked at me too.

“Maybe I am.”

I’m flirting and I can’t tell you why.

“Sit over here, we have an open seat.”

I pick up my things at sit them down at the foot of the table.  She introduced me to her friends: Alice, Dana, and Shane.

“So, Tina, where are you from?” Alice asked after class started and everyone was attempting to wedge their clay.

“Atlanta.”

“What brings you to L.A.?” Dana asked next.

“My dad was offered a new position out here at a law firm.”

“Which firm?” Bette stopped all of her movements and looked at me.

“Porter, Donnelly, and McLuhan.”

“Oh my God, that’s my dad’s firm.  He’s Melvin Porter.”

“I’ve heard a lot about him, but we’ve never met.  That’s kind of awesome though.  Now, I’ll at least have you to talk to at a boring firm party.”

Or someone to at least stare at from across the room.  That would be good enough for me.

Bette smiles and nods, “Yeah, I guess so.”

**

Bette and I shared a couple of classes—Calculus, Ceramics, and Spanish.  By the end of the day, you’d think I’d have enough of her, but I didn’t.  I wasn’t sure if that bothered me or not.  I just knew that I the more I saw her, the more I wanted to be around her.

“Do you have a ride home?” Bette asks.

“Oh, yeah.  I just have to call my mom…”

“Oh, no.  That will not do.”

“What, why?”

“This is L.A..  I don’t know how you do it in Atlanta, but getting a ride home from your mommy is not cool.  I’ll drop you off.”

Bette didn’t even wait for my answer before she turned away and started walking towards her car.

I follow her.  I follow her, only because I was going to follow her anyway.  I follow her because she could have told me we were going to Timbuktu and I would still go.

She was just so cool and I just wanted to be around her and call her my own.

What does that even mean?

I forget it all as we get to her car.