I'm Not Like That...

Even though it was a sweltering California night outside, the air in the upstairs bathroom felt thick with tension. Loud bass waves boomed from the speakers, pounding so hard that the glass with toothbrushes on the sink rattled each time.

– Hey, maybe it's time to stop clinging to your old life? – Gina, sitting on the washing machine with half-loose hair and a look that carried more irritation than sympathy, crossed her legs and stared challengingly at the girl across from her.

Melissa—or, as she used to be called, Michael—kept her gaze locked on the snow-white sink, her fingers gripping its edge tightly. Her breasts in the stretched dark tank top swayed slightly, whether from anger or the alcohol she'd poured inside herself. With her smeared lipstick and bright eyes, she looked so far from the person she once was that she didn't even want to glance at the mirror.

– What are you talking about? – she mumbled, turning her head halfway toward Gina and adjusting the tank top strap slipping off her shoulder. – I… I just had a bit too much. Wine. Or vodka. Or...

– Or your own reflection in the mirror? – Gina shot back, clicking her tongue and jumping down from the washing machine. – Don’t act like you don’t get it.

Melissa snapped her head up — long dark strands stuck to her damp cheek. Something flickered in her eyes between anger and fear.

– No, I really don’t understand you, – her voice wavered, and the phrase sounded too theatrical, like a rehearsed excuse. – I... I’m just not myself today.

– You’ve been “not yourself” for two fucking years, – Gina folded her arms across her chest, tugging at the collar of her denim jacket. – You’ve been living as a girl for TWO. FUCKING. YEARS. Maybe that’s enough already?!

Somewhere beyond the door, laughter burst out in the crowd, someone pounded on the wood and yelled, “Hey! You fucking in there or what?!”

– SHUT THE FUCK UP, JAKE! – Melissa suddenly shouted, spinning toward the door with such a burst of fury that her tits, barely held by her tank top, shook and bounced, distracting Gina for a second.

A chorus of “oooooh!” and greasy laughter came from behind the door. The bass still thudded through the walls, but now the tiny bathroom felt especially cramped. Cramped with heat, with air, with... conversations both girls were long sick of after these past two years.

– Oh... – Gina theatrically covered her mouth with her hand and squinted slyly. – Mel, you're so sexy when you're mad. Sexy-schmexy little slut.

Melissa flinched as if slapped. Her cheeks flushed red — maybe from the alcohol, maybe from shame, or maybe from how sharply her stomach twisted, reminding her she hadn’t eaten breakfast today, and lunch was just gin with tonic.

– Don’t call me that, – she hissed through her teeth, gripping the sink again. Her fingers turned white from the tension. – I... I’m not a slut. I...

– Oh, come on. – Gina stepped closer, the smell of alcohol on her breath mixing with cigarettes, though Melissa probably didn’t notice—it wasn’t like she was in any better shape. – You like all this. Just stop pretending you don’t.

Melissa looked up at her. Her eyelids trembled. Her lips trembled. Her whole body trembled. But it wasn’t fear. Not exactly. It was something much deeper, like it was under the skin, under the flesh, under everything that used to be Michael—rational, cold, always in a business suit Michael—and now it all boiled with some strange, sick pleasure. And disgust at that pleasure.

– You don’t understand a thing, – she exhaled, gasping for air like she was suffocating. – I... I just needed to... just see how he’s living. My son. I wasn’t planning to... become... this!

– This? – Gina raised an eyebrow. – You mean a wet pussy in tight leggings who knows exactly how to please both herself and any guy, and who every bitch on campus envies—though none of them say it out loud—because she’s also smart as fuck?

Gina smirked like she’d just delivered a victory speech. Her fingers slid onto Melissa’s thigh and squeezed—not aggressively, but with deliberate boldness. Like a friend. Like a dominant friend. Like someone who knows exactly who she’s dealing with.

– I’m not... – Melissa choked out a sob, her voice cutting off. She turned away sharply, as if hoping she wouldn’t be seen—wouldn’t be seen tearing up. – I didn’t want to be her. I just... I thought if I could live her life, even just glimpse it, maybe I’d understand what he’s going through... he’s grown so distant, Gina. Completely. I didn’t even know if he smokes. If he has a girlfriend? School? He... he became a stranger. And now...

– Oh my god, I am so sick of this. Blah-blah-blah. My son, blah-blah-blah, – she suddenly yanked Melissa’s face toward her and, grinning wide, said – You’re the hottest slut on campus! A young, beautiful babe with her whole life ahead of her! And no, you don’t have any fucking kids! Get over it already! – Gina practically spat the words into Melissa’s face, gripping her chin so she couldn’t turn away. – You’re not a father, not a parent, not Michael! You’re a drunk, hot, wet bitch at a party. Accept it already, for fuck’s sake!

– Stop... – Melissa croaked out, her voice rough and broken. She felt her stomach muscles tighten, felt something rise inside her—like a trembling wave of arousal twisted with self-hatred. And that only made it worse.

– Stop what? – Gina tilted her head, her fingers now sliding up—across her cheek, along her neck. – Stop saying the obvious? Like how proud you are of your blowjob skills? Or the fact you’ve been standing in this bathroom for ten minutes now, squirming like a bitch in heat because your clit is itching from the truth?

Melissa swallowed hard, trying to turn her head. But her whole body screamed otherwise. God, Gina knew exactly where to push. She always did. And of course, it was working now too.

– Bitch, – Melissa breathed out, barely audible, her lips trembling. She didn’t even know who the word was meant for—herself or her.

Gina smirked and, without a word, leaned forward. Their lips collided unexpectedly—hard, forceful, like a challenge. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was something dirty, drunk, clawing up from the gut. Gina’s lips rubbed against Melissa’s smeared lipstick, and the taste of alcohol, cigarettes, and some kind of menthol gloss mixed into one hot, irritating cocktail.

Melissa whimpered into the kiss. She didn’t want this. She couldn’t want this. She was...

But her hands betrayed her. One slipped off the edge of the sink and clutched Gina’s jacket like it was the only thing holding her in this world that was sliding out from under her. The other—hesitantly, but inevitably—followed, slipping under the fabric, onto Gina’s bare, warm waist.

– My girl, – Gina whispered, pulling back for a second, her gaze foggy but burning with desire. – Now let’s go fuck Jake and his crew together.

Melissa jerked like someone had dumped cold water over her. No—no-no-no. She tore herself out of the kiss, braced both palms on the sink, leaned forward like she was trying to anchor herself again in the white porcelain curve. Her tits heaved under the thin tank top, the strap now fully slipped off and hanging at her elbow. Her breath was hot, her skin slick with sweat—but not from lust. From panic.

– Wait... – she exhaled hoarsely, her breath ragged. – I can’t...

– Can’t what? – Gina, still standing next to her, raised her brows and let out a rough laugh. – I can see you're already cumming just from the thought.

– I... – her voice trembled as she lifted her eyes to her friend again. Red, wet, full of horror deep inside. – I just... I can’t do this. I’m not like that...

– Not like what? – Gina stepped closer. Their bodies nearly touched, and the scent of alcohol wrapped around Melissa again, like it was pulling her back in. – Not like someone who loves to fuck? Or not like the kind of girl who wants to be looked at like a juicy piece of meat?

– I... – Melissa squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Something twitched low in her belly. God, she fucking loved all of it. – I just... let’s... let’s call Christina. She... she wanted to have some fun too, right?

Gina froze. Then burst out laughing—loud, like someone had flipped the “sarcasm” switch in her brain.

– God... – she giggled, covering her mouth with a hand. – YOU — calling Christina? Baby, what a miracle! I was almost convinced you were back to your boring-ass self again.

Melissa tried to turn away, but couldn’t—Gina’s laughter was sticky, intoxicating. The loud music behind the door seemed to merge with that laughter and infect Melissa from the inside, who suddenly laughed too, surprising even herself, her whole body already aching with anticipation. Somewhere, someone was pounding on the door again: – JUST FUCKING COME OUT ALREADY! – and another voice echoed – Gina, fuck, open up, I wanna see that pussy!

– Shhh, – Gina leaned in closer, breathing hot into her ear. – Let’s go find Christina.

Melissa pressed herself against the sink, her lips trembling—but she smiled. Wide. Like a predator had just awakened inside her. And from that smile, something warm spread through her entire body. No. She didn’t want to think anymore. At least not now. Now she just wanted to have fun. Like