as cool as I am

by lise

"Don't go, please?"

She stops, lays back down on the stupid pastel blanket beside me. Her hand creeps towards mine, and I cradle the soft little palm against my own, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles; back and forth, back and forth. Her skin is so soft. She whispers, "Won't they find us?"

The night is hot. I like my room the temperature of my home, warm, cozy, with a breeze and soft wind coming from an open window. Unfortunately, in the middle of winter, I have to manage with a heater and the electric blanket.

She looks at me in the dark, tries to see my expression. When I don't answer her, she says again, "Won't they find us? Find out?"

"Yes, they might, darling."

She moves down under the blankets, curls up in them like a little cat, or a very small child. Pushes herself against me, trying to become more comfortable against my body, that's stretched out and feeling the glow that comes right before one falls asleep, that drowsy feeling of security beneath warm blankets.

I like to share it with her, even more, though she would not understand.

"Why are you smiling like an idiot, M?"

"I was thinking-- about sharing sheets with you. Nothing more."

"Huh."

She doesn't say anything else for a while; we just lay there, letting the hands curved around my shoulder, her face buried in my neck, do enough communication that our mouths are silent.

But finally, she goes back to using words. "Monet, I'll stay, but--"

I turn over, trying to focus my misty gaze on the soft light of my digital alarm clock. "Please, Jubilee."

She stays silent, but her fingers make little circling patterns on my bare shoulder, tracing the same paths along my skin, over and over. Her breathing is the only sound in the room... easy, casual breathing. Soft. She has had lessons in breathing from a sensei, and though she does not know it, Wolverine's teaching has rubbed off. Her little gasps are-- restful, and they drown out the insistent whine of my floor heater.

Her breathing slips into the deeper rhythms of sleep, and I smile up at the ceiling. "Jubilee," I murmur, "We are going to be in trouble tomorrow."

But she doesn't answer, and the relaxed motions of her chest and lungs lull me asleep.

~*~

We managed to get to the showers and to the Biosphere and to the cafeteria and to classes without anyone noticing that Jubilee never came back to her room. Paige tends not to notice those nights that Jubilee disappears. She has always been a stubborn girl. She has always had secrets.

But it is easy to forget who this young girl is-- young, Monet, let's be honest, she's only a year younger than you are-- when you watch her talk Angelo's ear off. So uncouth, sometimes. So blunt.

And when she sits backwards in her chair, short hair standing on end, sunglasses on her head, I can't believe that no one wonders whether Jubilee is anything but straight. Her posturing screams 'dyke', and I am open minded but--

Perhaps I see these things because I know her true nature.

We get to the end of the school day without more than the barest of contact; she is far too involved with 'the boys', Angelo and Jono, sometimes, but that is, I suspect, where she belongs. In a few years, when she is ready to admit it, Jubilee will be one of the guys completely. And Angelo and Jono both will welcome the change.

The poor darling is not happy lying to them, but it would be far worse were she lying to herself.

~*~

Tonight it is different; she is hesitent, almost, holding back from the brink. She tries to cover it up, but I know her. Nothing is subtle and she would scream, were the pillow clenched tightly in her teeth.

Tonight, part of her mind is elsewhere.

I lift my head, replacing tongue with a gentle finger, slow, leisurely, and whisper, "Jubilee, what is wrong?"

A snorted breath, gasping, and she whispers back, "Nothing, love. Now--"

A flick of my finger, carefully timed, and she moans, heels scrabbling against the duvet. I whisper again, "Yes there is."

She opens her eyes, stares down the length of that skinny little body, and looks at me carefully. "Why do you say that?"

I kiss her stomach, increase the rhythm of my finger, moving in little circles and making her moan. "Because part of you is elsewhere." I smile at her, and as she watches me, add, "It's rather rude, you know."

I hit a particularly sensitive spot, and she throws her head back, lets herself push up against my hand. I smirk a little, as her knees open up, trying to force me to go faster, palms still pressed tightly against my duvet.

Instead, I slow down, then stop, letting my hand rest over her gently. "Jubilee, if you do not want this with me, I would like to know."

She relaxes tense muscles, and takes a deep breath. "Monet, sometimes I think you do these kinda things, like, on purpose."

Her eyes are still closed, legs slack and apart, at ease being naked in the dark. I stand up, and flick the desk lamp on, and her reaction is instantaneous-- closes her legs, curls up... pulls the sheet over her.

I say quietly, "Do you not want me to see you?"

She looks away.

I come back to her side, and sit down. Forcing her to look at me, I murmur, "If you are not ready for that, perhaps we are not ready to make love."

She snorts, and tries to keep her composer. "Make love?"

I nod, and wait for her to reply.

She finally lays back, moving over far enough that I can get under the covers. The sheet is still around her, but at least she's let it pool around her hips. She is willing to let me in that far. She runs a hand through her sweaty hair, making it stand up straight, and hopelessly mussed up from her wriggling around. Glorious.

With a frown on her face, she finally answers me. "M, do you wanna have The Talk, now?"

"The Talk, love?" I frown back at her, confused.

She shuffles around, giving me more room to lay down. Absently she runs another hand through her hair, and I shake my head fondly. "The Talk. Where we express our feelings." I continue to stare at her. "The one where we ask each other how we feel and end up deciding that for the relationship to move on, we have to tell everyone and have a big scene and end up getting drummed out of class being called big dykes but hey, we're together so we run off into the woods and start a commune--"

I have to cut her off before she goes supersonic.

I kiss her.

"Jubilee," I say patiently. "I thought we were expressing our feelings."

She looks a little dazed. "But, talk about them."

I look at her, and ask, "Do you want to talk about them?"

She looks away from me, and mumbles, "It's hard to-- know what to say."

I nod, and put an arm around her shoulders casually. She leans against me, and that's nice. Be reasonable, Monet. That's more than nice. I say, "Quite frankly, Jubilee, the posturings of teenage love are silly. I enjoy you, you enjoy me, and-- anything else that develops will take more time than our two months."

She snorts softly. "Everything seems to move so-- quick."

I answer softly, "Yes, it does. But you aren't someone to accept that you're really this young."

She answers by wrapping an arm around my waist, and muttering to my stomach, "Next time you stop in the middle just to say goofy things, I'm going to bite you SO hard..." I chuckle softly in the dark, and she whispers, softer still, "Do we tell people?"

I shrug, and answer, "It is none of their business. I suggest we quit hiding, and let them talk all they will."

~*~

We never officially announced anything; still, by the end of the next day most of the students knew that something was going on between us. Holding hands is rather vague, and there was a lot of speculation. Paige was quiet, but finally asked. Jubilee answered her proudly-- she is turning this into the answer to a challenge.

She has to be strong. That's who she is.

But the first time Jubilee and I kissed while other people were watching, she was so nervous I could feel the tremble in her lips. Angelo whistled, Jono's surprise was broadcast to everyone within at least twenty feet.

I'm proud of her, though. She looked at the pair of them, and then replied in a perfect manner; she stuck out her tongue.

And the reaction of children around school could have been worse; someone actually tried to taunt me, thinking that it would matter they thought I was lesbian, and that their foolish little names would affect me. When I walked away, they actually tried to follow. I apologized to Ms. Frost for hitting him, but she merely gave me a day's detention and sent the brute home.

She's a good teacher. She didn't say a word.

Jubilee actually got into three fights the first week. When that obnoxious little tart, Wendy, from algebra, ended up with a broken wrist, people didn't touch her again. Though, my darling was possibly over-exaggerating the claims of abuse. Jubilee is a wonderful spirit, but not the most level-headed. As cool as she wants to be, she's still nervous about admitting who she is.

Who we are. As cool as I am, deep down, so am I.

It's all going to be all right, though, and just looking at her in math class, chewing bubble gum and being a tomboy, I know it. The majority of students are treating it as any other kind of gossip; running with it, talking about it in interested whispers, as if we didn't know. We're being treated like any other high school couple.

And that's just the way I want it. Because that's the way it is.

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