I don't know when. I don't know how, but sometime, long ago, people suddenly had writings tattooed somewhere on their body whenever they turned sixteen.

We learned this in history not too long ago but it's not like I ever payed attention in class. All I cared about at that moment was what those words meant. The first words the lover you were going to have for the rest of your life says to you, and your first words on them. All I was thinking for the rest of the lesson, was what my words were going to be.

Now, I'm here, in the present, sixteen years and twelve days old. The words painted across my stomach.

"Why, hello, beautiful." And those same words being said to my face. This. Very. Moment. I was okay for a moment, told the dude to go fuck themselves. Until they responded that that was their tattoo.

I should be happy, right? Absolutely not. This doesn't make any sense whatsoever.

It's a girl.

My future husband is a girl.

That literally can't be, not for me. I'm straight, or, I thought I was... I mean, I look at pretty girls and appreciate their beauty but I've never wanted to *be* with one. This doesn't make any sense whatsoever.

I looked at the girl in front of me. She was tall. Really, really, frickin' tall. She was very pretty. Big, brown eyes. Short, blonde hair cut just above the ears. She was beautiful, but I still didn't understand. She was staring at me, smiling, probably happy that she found her One, while I'm in utter turmoil.

She stuck out her hand.

"Lisa. Lisa Taylor." It took her a moment to put her hand back down after I didn't reciprocate the gesture. She seemed disappointed and it irked me. I regretted not shaking her hand.

"Shay Grifton." I finally said. She lit up a little and I was happy I said something to make that happen.

I raised my hand. "Sorry. I just-... I'm not even sure if I can explain to you why this shouldn't happen. I'm straight. I like men! A lot! I've had quite a few boyfriends!" She smiled a little, like she was looking at a child.

"That doesn't necessarily mean you're straight, you can like guys too. Sexuality isn't exclusive. You're almost never really just *one* thing. I like girls. But that doesn't necessarily mean I wouldn't date a guy if I liked him enough. It's not set in stone." She laid a hand on my head and petted it down before putting it back to her side.

"You don't have to be scared of this kind of thing." She smiled extra big at that.

"...How am I supposed to tell my parents?" Her lips turned down.

"Why are people so against love?" She seemed to say to herself. "Don't tell them. Not until you think *you're* ready. 'A blaze doesn't involve herself with minor flames.' It doesn't matter when they're ready." She set her hand on my shoulder. "Only when you are."

I nodded a little, cautiously. "But what if they kick me out of the house?" Her smile was brought back.

"Then you can live with me, if you're comfortable with it." She added with a wink.

Well, maybe this could work, or maybe not. I think I may be willing to try something with someone who makes me feel all fluttery.

I mean, why the hell not?

Months later, told from the perspective of Lisa.

~x~

I intertwined my fingers with hers and pressed my lips to her forehead.

"So." I heard her mutter.

"So?" I whispered into her forehead, making a teeny raspberry noise which made her chuckle a bit, which, of course, made me chuckle a bit. I leaned against the wall against our backs. She started to stand, pulling her fingers from mine and I tugged on her a bit, wanting her to stay only a little longer.

She smiled at me, not big, just one of her smiles.

"I have to get to class, dumbass." She leaned down and smooshed her lips against mine, making me feel all buzzed and stupid. Her hands fingered through my hair and I flicked a finger at her freckled cheeks, trying to get a fly to, hah, fly away. The summer months just a little before school had made the bugs unbearable.

Green eyes blinked and I felt her eyelashes flutter against mine. We stayed like that for a good long minute.

"Weren't you talking about a class?" Her eyebrows bunched in the middle and pulled back from me.

"Class? What's this class you speak of? Sounds utterly insufferable..." I smiled and kissed her another time.

"See you later, my dear. Do you want me to take you home?" She nodded, smiling, and walked off. I sighed deeply.

I hate it when she's leaving, but damn, do I love watching her go.

A few weeks ago, she came out to her parents. They didn't really like it at first, especially not her dad, he nearly came at me with a wooden spoon, but her mom talked him down nicely. They got over it. She wasn't so afraid anymore and that made me happy. Soon, I was being invited to dinners (without fear of being poisoned), and not too long after that I started walking with her to school, taking her back to her house.

We'd sit and hang out until the bell rang for class and I left as soon as she did. I'd already had my deal with public school done and I definitely did not want to get sucked into the despair that is teenage angst. I like my private schools just fine.

I pulled my arms from my jacket and tied it around my waist. I supposed I should get to class.

Or I could just skip? Yeah, I think I'll go ahead and do that instead.

~x~

I was counting the bells and this was the fifteenth, I waited for her to come out of the doors, playing one of the many jizzstain knockoffs of flappy bird.

I saw her walk through the grey doors, brown hair flapping about because of the sudden gusts of wind. I didn't understand how no one was hitting on her at a constant. Jesus, if I was in this school I'd be making some pretty invasive maneuvers.

She hip-swayed over and we started walking. I waited for an entire ten minutes of walking before grabbing her hand and it felt like hours. The time spent with her felt like seconds. Why does love change your perception of time? It's such an odd thing and I just. I don't want it to stop.

Not ever.