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Barely a week had passed since Amy had returned from her philanthropic trip to Botswana; and she was packing her bags for Columbia.
Amy rifled through her suitcase, tossing aside bundles of cargo shorts and cheap cotton button-downs, and replacing them with clothes suited for colder temperatures. As much as she loved her time helping out in Botswana, she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about mosquitos, sunburns, and skin dryness anymore.
As she neatly packed her clothes and her trusted Panda doll into her suitcase, she noticed a small note sticking out of her wallet. Amy’s insides formed a pool in her stomach as she recalled the many nights where she spent hours just staring at her satellite phone, contemplating the decision to call her.
She had even entered the digits into her phone, did that so many times that she could recite the contents of the note in her sleep.
But she could never amass the courage to press ‘Call’ – they couldn’t meet for a year; she was out of Amy’s league; she could have any girl she wanted; she probably found someone else’s couch and they’ve probably U-hauled by now; Amy just wasn’t worth it – she would always find an excuse.
Her mother called out to her from the kitchen – stopping her from wallowing in her self-pity any longer. This wasn’t the first time her wimpish tendencies had been the cause for lament; and she knew by no means would it be the last.
She would probably write a book about that someday – and possibly name it ‘The Regrets of being a Wallflower’; if she could work things out in the copyright department.
Amy took a deep breath to steady herself and bounded downstairs.
There wasn’t a single person she recognized at the welcome address; despite Molly’s divisive claims that the ‘cool’ kids of their high school got into the same places they did. The best friend in question was supposed to be there today, until an eleventh-hour call from her Professor regarding her summer project derailed their plans. Amy was pissed – no doubt, but she understood the severity of Molly’s predicament, and begrudgingly allowed her to postpone their meetup to the following weekend.
She trudged back to her room, having nobody else to talk to besides her new roommate – Sanju. The Indian girl had merely dropped her stuff on her bed before she rushed back out to her parents’ hotel. In a passing remark, she mentioned that they were set to return to India in a few days and that she would be staying with them until then.
Just as Amy plonked down on her bed, she was forced to get up once again by a knock on her door. Amy opened the door to a tall African-American girl leaning on the doorjamb.
“Are you Amy Devers?”
Amy gave the girl a once over before she replied. “Y-yes.”
“Cool, there’s someone looking for you in the main courtyard outside the dorms.” And with that, she bounded off towards the stairs; leaving a perplexed redhead in her wake.
Amy slipped on her most presentable navy-blue jacket and a pair of Converses, in case Molly’s urgent Professor call was a set-up and she had actually come down to visit her. Amy wouldn’t bet on it, but it seemed like the most probable scenario.
She stepped outside and almost instantly stopped in her tracks. Amy felt all her fears and insecurities come crashing back as she stood across from the person she least expected to see.
Hope – the subject of Amy’s raunchiest wet dreams and most heartbreaking nightmares. She was standing next to a black motorcycle, towering over almost all the women and most men around her with her model-like physique; clad in a black leather jacket, plain white t-shirt, tight form-fitting jeans, and black combat boots.
The hormonal part of Amy’s brain automatically updated itself with the newfound information; and promptly scheduled an appointment with LingLing later that evening.
The redhead’s instinctive reaction was to make a break for it before Hope realized she was there; but that plan rapidly fell apart as Hope’s eyes darted towards her. With no other conceivable plan, Amy stood frozen until Hope covered the short distance between them with her long stride.
“Come with me.” Hope calmly stated as she held out a helmet.
Amy started to retort, but a glare from Hope silenced anything she was about to say. Her voice didn’t show it, but Amy could see it in her eyes – Hope was not happy with her.
Wordlessly, Amy followed the brunette to her bike and cautiously settled herself behind her.
As Hope started the bike, Amy frantically tried to search for something to hold on to; something that wasn’t the girl who made her stomach flutter. The sudden jerk of the bike prompted Amy to instinctively wrap her arms around Hope’s svelte waist.
Amy could smell Hope's natural fragrance as her rested on the brunette's back; just a small whiff brought back another wave of flashbacks to that fateful night.
They didn’t travel very far – Amy guessed they were probably on the road for about 10 minutes. Hope pulled up next to a diner that seemed relatively empty for Sunday afternoon in middle of New York City.
Hope led her to a secluded booth in the corner of the room and gestured for Amy to sit across from her.
When she didn't budge, Hope jeered at her. “Please. We have enough goldfish in that aquarium already.”
Amy closed her mouth and reluctantly settled down on the seat.
“W-what are you doing here?” Amy questioned.
“Wasn’t it obvious?” The brunette challenged.
“I… no…”
“Why didn’t you call?” Amy watched as the anger she saw earlier returned with renewed vigor in Hope’s eyes.
“I-I…” Amy stuttered.
“Answer me, Amy. I gave you my number, why didn’t you call me?” Hope’s voice was progressively getting more thunderous as she spoke. Some of the patrons from the other booths threw her a disapproving glance, but Hope paid them no heed; her gaze was firmly fixated on Amy.
Gulping down the water in front of her, Amy took a deep breath before answering. “I… was scared.”
“You were scared?! What was there to be scared about? I gave you my number, I told you that I was interested in you even after you fucking vomited all over me; all you had to do was call me.”
Amy nervously fiddled with the tip of her jacket as she stuttered her reply. “I-I’m sorry. I w-was scared th-… I was… we weren’t going to meet for a year, and I thought… you’d probably want someone without all that long-distance baggage, or maybe someone better suited for you than me.”
“Amy. You do not get to decide who I do or don’t like.” Hope emphasized sternly.
“S-Sorry…” In that moment, Amy regretted her nightly decision not to call more than ever before. Hope had done most of the heavy lifting in this… could she call it a relationship?
Hope tossed her head back in her seat and groaned; before turning back to Amy with a huff. “And it seems that neither do I. God, what am I doing?”
Amy watched in anticipation as Hope took a deep breath.
“I don’t like meek people; never have, don’t think I ever will. And you aren’t a chicken heart all the time; you have your moments – where you’re suddenly a suave kisser or the courageous hero that saves the day; but you are a coward, Amy. And by my principles, you’re exactly the type of person I would hate.”
She couldn’t breath – is that what Hope really thought about her that night?
Hope paused for another second, before continuing.
“I don’t like meek people, but I really, really like you.” Hope held her gaze, and Amy could see how vulnerable she was making herself.
“H-Hope. I’m sorry for the way I-I’ve treated you for the past year. I know I should’ve called you – I should’ve called you that very night. But I… I really, really like you too.” Amy admitted, not even blinking as she did.
“Then why doesn’t it feel like that?”
“I’m sorry, I… didn’t think I was worth it.” Amy slumped down in her seat further; in hindsight, she could see how neurotic she’d been.
Hope reached across the table and clasped Amy’s hand in her own. “Amy, if we are going to have something between us, you need to get this through your head right now – I like you, and you are definitely worth it.”
Just as Amy leaned across the table for a kiss, she heard someone clapping the background. She turned to find their server clapping excitedly with happy tears in his eyes. “This is beautiful! From this moment onwards, you girls are my OTP.”
Hope rolled her eyes at the cheery man, grabbed Amy’s dainty hand, and dragged her towards the exit. The redhead herself was too busy thinking about the future – being with Hope, maintaining a long-distance relationship, the effects it would have on her college life, how she was willing to ignore it all if she could still be with her.
“Ughh, you can’t get even an inch of space to yourself in this goddamn city, can you?”
The exclamation brought Amy out of her trance. “Wait, how long have you been staying in New York?” Amy probed.
“About 7 months now; moved here last winter when I got my record deal.”
“You’re going to be a musician, in New York?! What about college?!”
“Relax, I’m just starting out. We’re still trying to find my style, and if any of the songs I wrote are worth something. That summer, I sort of reacquainted myself with my passion for music; thought I’d wholeheartedly give that a shot before I head elsewhere.”
Hope brushed her off, but Amy persisted. “Oh, that’s good… that’s cool. Tell me more about your songs.”
Hope raised one of her perfect eyebrows. “Like I’d show them to anyone who isn’t a producer.”
“You do know that I won’t stop until I get you to sing me some of them.”
“Oh yes, but first I’m going to make you work for it.” The taller girl hopped back on her motorcycle, passing Amy her helmet.
This time, Amy didn’t hesitate to slide her arms around Hope, making sure to get an armful of her taut stomach along the way.
“Don’t get too comfortable; I still need to drive.”
As the pair reached her dorm, Amy turned back to face Hope. “So, this is me.”
The taller girl nodded; before leaning in to join their lips softly. Amy pulled back ever so slightly, before she melted into the pleasant feeling. This contrasted quite a bit from the wanton rush she felt during their previous kiss; and in its own way, felt just as memorable.
They slowly parted and Hope stepped back to leave; but she was stopped by Amy, who grabbed her hand.
“I’ve got a couch… and my roommate isn’t coming back tonight.” Amy declared, a deep red blush enveloping her freckled features.
“Hmm… is that right?”
“Yeah, and I believe I’m supposed to be sorry.” Amy didn’t understand where she was drawing all of this courage from, but if there’s one thing she knew – she wasn’t about to stop.
“You most certainly should be.” Hope took a step forward.
“Yes, and I have a year’s worth of time and… sex, to make up for.”
“You had me at couch.” The pair quickly rushed inside; eager to catch up on a year’s worth of lost time.