Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Layla is still the elusive siren. We’re still an entire galaxy apart: me, on the outer orbits of her singular gravitational pull, in the cold and forgotten nether regions of the edges of her light. Her presence seems to change the molecular makeup of my body; I’m cowering quietly over the beer that I’ll likely nurse for the rest of the night, rather than trying to meet someone new. Pathetic.
I look at my phone, desperate to busy myself. My best friend and roommate, Nicole, has texted: Sorry, we’re bad friends. Kate & I will be there soon.
I sigh, roll my eyes, reply. Ok fine.
A butch with reddish brown hair and black glasses sits next to me.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” I reply coyly.
She’s plain but striking in a black turtleneck and jeans. Her hazel eyes sparkle at me as she’s clearly turning on the charm. I’m already blushing: no matter how many times I come here and go through this, getting approached somehow makes me forget all semblance of grace and poise. I am beside myself with flattery and awe.
“Are you with anyone?” she asks.
“No.” I bat my eyes and give her my best smile. “I mean, my friends are coming. But I’m not withwith anyone.”
I’m babbling, stumbling over my words. My new friend holds out her hand.
“I’m Tess,” she says.
I give her my hand.
“Maya.”
She’s got a firm grip, a sign of good character. She lets her hand linger on mine for a moment. I blush.
“So, Maya, tell me a little about yourself.”
There’s the boring stuff: I’m out of college four years, and am a legal secretary to pay the bills. I’m a yoga buff; Tess takes the opportunity to feel my bicep for proof.
“Impressive,” she says.
I’m beginning to dabble in Zen Buddhism. My true passion is Physics, which I swear one day I’ll go back to when I have the time and money and wherewithal to go back to school.
Tess’s eyes light up at this.
“A fellow science nerd!” she emotes. “It’s so rare I get to meet one in a place like this.”
I’m every bit as surprised as she is; when I ask her what she means, she’s all too happy to tell me she’s a third-year cardiology student. I’m ready to start conversing with Tess in earnest—I ask her about her studies and she’s got stories that are punctuated with enthusiasm and the kind of fire in the heart I’ve rarely seen since college. There’s nothing sexier than a girl who does what she loves and loves what she does.
Tess is in the throes of a story about her residency at the SUNY Downstate Hospital when Nicole and Kate come from out of nowhere and barge into the conversation.
“Ohmigod, we are awful. Sorry we kept you waiting so long,” Nicole announces, running a hand through her long, dirty-blonde hair.
Nicole is dressed plainly in a black tank top and skinny jeans with ripped knees. But she’s got the kind of body that can make anything look like a fashion statement: she’s long and lithe, standing a full three inches taller than me. She might have been a model if she’d been blessed with a little bit more height; still, she carries herself as if she’s six feet tall.
“Kate changed her outfit like eight million times,” Nicole continues, nodding accusatorially at our mutual friend.
Kate shrugs sheepishly.
“Sorry,” she squeaks.
Kate looks perfect in a black miniskirt and beige V-necked sweater. There’s not a follicle out of place on her dark brown, shoulder-length mane, and her makeup is perfect. I met Kate in college. She’s a super-smart, feminist-literature buff who helped me get through the likes of calculus and we ended up remaining friends.
Of course, she sticks out like a sore thumb here—too dressed up for the lesbian dive, looking as if she might have wandered in here by accident during a bachelorette party with her fancy friends.
I glance at Tess, the awkwardness of the moment clamping down on our meet-cute like a vise. My friends have come in at exactly the wrong time, and it’s clear from the look on Tess’s face that she feels the poor timing just as strongly as I do. Nicole follows my gaze and turns to Tess.
“Oh, not only are we bad friends but we’re rude too. I’m Nicole, Maya’s would-be sister, and this is Kate.”
Pause.
“We’re not gay,” she adds.
“Nicole,” I scold, my face reddening with embarrassment.
Kate’s face reddens; she looks silently mortified enough to crawl under a barstool. As if by instinct, she wrings her hands, her two-carat engagement ring catching the dingy light. Kate’s engaged to be married to Ray, who she met just six months ago; he’s a plastic surgeon in his late thirties with a lucrative private practice on the Upper West Side. He’s got loads of money and more premature aging than one would expect from a successful plastic surgeon; I always thought he looked comically mismatched next to Kate, with his lackluster gray eyes, receding hairline, and salt-and-pepper beard. But he’s nice enough; he never looks at his bride-to-be without a hint of surprise in his gaze, like he’s brutally aware that he hit the jackpot with her. He proposed after they’d been dating for four months and insists that she give up her job as an adjunct lecturer at our alma mater as soon as they tie the knot. “But I don’t want to,” Kate always says, her voice lowering to a whisper, as if he might be around to catch her. “I didn’t get into teaching literature for the money. I love it. He’ll come around.”
I shoot a look of apology at Tess.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone