Submissive Bliss

(Long time reader here, trying my hand at a first little story that plagued my mind last night until I started putting it to paper. Hopefully people like it and I get some inspiration to continue it, or maybe some other works. Usual disclaimers, all principal characters are 18 and up, etc. I hope you enjoy.)

I've always been plain, and to be honest, that's how I liked it. I'm quiet, and pensive-less so than I was, but that's precisely why I suppose I'd call myself plain. As much as I yearned for kindred friendships, the thought of someone constantly in my ear, breaking up my myriad trains of thought distressed me. I made do with my study groups, my work with the student council, and my mom.

I sighed, gazing at myself in the round mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door. No matter what I did I couldn't seem to make myself look right. I tried letting my chest length brown hair hang freely, but it just looked unkempt. I tried a ponytail, but it just made my strays stand out. I finally opted for a loose bun, and slid my thick glasses over my tired, baggy eyes like a helm's visor, hoping it would add to my sense of anonymity. After a bit more fiddling, I hurried downstairs and scarfed down the breakfast mum made before she left for work, and hurried out the door.

The warming spring air softened the spitting rain, and I made it to school without getting more than a spritz upon me, despite my dread and regret at not having snagged an umbrella. But I quickly changed gears once I crossed into the sanitised halls, over the polished granite tile. Midterms were fast approaching, and as a senior I was determined to graduate with a sterling record and secure myself a scholarship. I'm what plenty of people would call a nerd, and a bit of an overachiever, but mostly...mostly I just wanted to look after my mom. Give her a real chance to retire in comfort. After my dad died she had to raise me all on her own, and that meant balancing work and home. I wanted to make good on that.

Third period was Trig. I skimmed through the class, mainly looking ahead to possible problems that would be posed on the midterms, and occasionally absentmindedly answering questions the teacher posed.

The bell rang, and I packed my textbook into my bag, stifling a yawn. Thought about how I'd head home, devote maybe 3, 4 hours to studying as I waited for mum, have dinner with her and watch whatever syndicated sitcoms were on until bed. I slung my bag over my shoulder and stalked out of the classroom.

"Um...hey, Robin, right?" A hesitant, soft voice came from my right. I faltered, and turned. It was Melissa Redmond, in all her glory. At 5 foot 11, she towered over me, even leaning into the wall as she was, shyly holding her tote over her thighs. She tilted her head as if searching for my gaze, making her bouncy, gold waves cascade over her shoulder. I met her green eyes for a moment before tearing mine away, feeling as though I'd been jolted through with just under the lethal voltage. I nodded.

"Uh...Yeah. Wh, what's up?" I immediately started to redden. My voice came out like a mousy squeak because of my uncertainty, and I was looking down like some kind of loser. I began to berate myself.

"Well uh, nothing much, just...well...ugh, I'll just come out and say it. I'm, like, super close to flunking Trig, and I'm just not doing summer school. I've got stuff lined up, and...'" She looked at me and shook her head. "Never mind. What matters is...I need you to tutor me."

I blinked. Opened my mouth, closed it again. I raised my hands in the most half hearted of defenses. "What? But why me? Mr. Dempsey-"

"Mr. Dempsey is a creepy old goat," Melissa said, pulling a face. "Besides, I heard you in there, you were like...like a supercomputer."

I scoffed lightly, looking incredulous. "I-I'm not-"

"C'mon Robin, please," she practically whined, pulling my gaze to hers. This time I kept it for more than a few moments, and saw only an earnest desire to make it through senior year. I deflated, sighing.

"O-okay. But it can't be on Thursdays-"

I was cut off by a squeal a dolphin would be proud of, and in the next moment, swept up in Melissa's tight embrace. My eyes widened as she pulled me close, my face nestled into the bare skin of her clavicle, exposed but for the straps on her green halter top. Her skin was soft, a slight tan year round, and smelled ever so faintly like vanilla. As soon as I had time to process all of this, she had already pulled away, beaming.

"Today! Wait for me in front of the main doors, I wanna get on this as soon as possible!"

I wanted to protest, to tell her I already had my evening mapped out, but she was already halfway down the hall, and getting lost in the shuffle of other students heading to 4th. Flustered, I took a deep breath, and swivelled on my heel to get to History.

The end of day bell rang and the halls became bustling currents of students hemorrhaging from the exits or heading to various extracurriculars. Thursdays I had mandatory council meetings as the VP, something I'd long since grown disillusioned with after two years, having spent time as the Treasurer as a junior. I think when I initially ran I'd had some idea that it would look good on my university applications, but now I saw it as a pointless endeavour and waste of time, us having next to no influence on anything meaningful; mainly scheduling various student events while having no real voice when it came to curriculum or anything beyond the club coffers. But it was a Monday, and that meant I had no ready made excuse. I walked out the front, through one of the three double doors leading to the main walk down to the road where masses of students still congregated, commiserating and chatting, my eyes scanning cautiously for Melissa. I didn't see her. Figures...

"Hey!" I felt her hand land softly on my upper arm as I heard her, and nearly leapt, turning to where she'd been leaning against one of the tall, Doric pillars between the doors. She grinned at me, disarmingly, genuinely, and I felt my eyes immediately tug away and down. "Thanks so much again for helping, I really need this."

I didn't know how to respond. I half nodded, half shrugged, grunting a small "Yeah."

She seemed to bounce on her heels for a moment, adjusting her tote over one shoulder. "Soo, my place is kind of not ideal right now? My dad is doing like...renovations all through the basement, the place reeks of plaster and paint and the pipes are all rattling in the walls, I swear that old man doesn't...anyways, we can hit up the library, or something."

I don't know why I suggested it or what came over me. Maybe just 18 years of being raised to be a good girl, a decent human being, but I crossed my arms and offered, "Well, my place is free. My mom works until maybe 7, sometimes later, and it's quiet. And," I added with a crooked half smile, "the pipes only rattle some of the time."

Melissa beamed again, her full, pink lips split by dazzling rows of strong, uniform teeth, her pink tongue pinched between them as if suppressing a cheeky laugh. "Well well, was that a joke from Woolcott? I never!"

I blushed, both at her familiar, teasing tone, and at the unexpected way she called me by my surname. Most of us barely knew the first names of our peers. I didn't live far, maybe 8 or so blocks away, past the main road and weaving through a grid of metropolitan suburb. We sauntered up the creaky wooden steps to the old turn of the century townhouse I called home, a handsome, if slowly dilapidating three storey brick building split cleanly down the middle by a wall between our property and our neighbours', a wall that, mercifully, dulled the constant blare of oldies the elderly couple next door played, to something of a background hum. I unlocked the door and led us in through the narrow foyer, where we kicked off our shoes, to the living room. We took over the couch and coffee table, scattered as it was with bills and flyers, and after we got ourselves situated, I headed to the kitchen to get us some drinks.

When I returned, carrying a pitcher of lemonade and two mismatched tumblers, Melissa was standing by the disused, blocked off mantle, perusing the family photos, her left hand pressed into the rear pocket of her high waisted shorts. She turned innocently, gesturing her head back to the pictures. "You were a pretty cute kid, huh?"

I felt my neck heat up again. "I was such a little gremlin."

Melissa chuckled. "You still are." I winced at that, but her tone told me she meant it more as a joke, and I moved back to the couch. Melissa rejoined me, flouncing down with one leg folded under her and the other hanging off the couch, and gratefully took one cup. As we both sipped it I realised it was unsweetened (likely because we'd forgone sugar as some kind of luxury that month), and had a bitter, diluted taste. Before I could say anything, Melissa made a long noise of appreciation.

"God, this is perfect. I hate it when lemonade is all like. Sticky sweet, you know?"

I took another sip. "Uh, yeah, I guess. It's a bit bitter though."

Melissa shook her head. "That's how ya know it's got lemon in it!" She had another quaff, and then put her cup down and clapped her hands together. "Alright! Trigonometry! Let's get this done."

As afternoon progressed into evening, we carved our way through the rudiments and I found Melissa to be earnest and honest in her desire to learn, asking questions as she eyed the textbook thoughtfully, surprising me as she piped up with conceptual comparisons, and of course, occasionally making me wither or blush or, worst of all, get a chuckle out of me, making me extra wary of my tendency to snort (as I reflexively inhaled when a laugh was torn from me by surprise). Soon it was nearing 7, and the sun began to take on that copper glow as it set. We called it, got our things packed up, and were standing so I could see Melissa to the door when I heard the lock unlatch. A couple moments later and mum appeared around the corner, looking tired in her grey office wear. She froze for a moment, then smiled.

"Oh! Sorry to interrupt you two. Don't mind me. Hi, Robin."

"H-hi mum, uh..." I blanked for half a second, and didn't know why-it felt as though I was caught at something I shouldn't be, but it was likely more the fact that I just...didn't have any friends over, really ever.

"Hi Miss Woolcott, I'm Melissa," my study partner said gamely, stepping forward to shake my mother's hand with a confidence I could never imagine of myself. "Robin's been helping me with some math stuff that keeps stumping me. You raised a pretty smart cookie."

I saw my mom's eyebrows raise a moment as she flicked her eyes between us, likely suspicious at such a simple story and doubly so at Melissa's chipper, lauding words, but she quickly discarded the thought and made her way to the kitchen, tossing her purse down on the wooden, adjustable table. "Well, it's good to hear you girls are taking your senior year seriously. Are you staying for dinner, Melissa?"

"No, I'd better get back before...oh shoot, yeah, two missed calls and a whack of texts from my folks." Melissa looked exasperated as she fiddled with her phone. She looked up at me with an apologetic smile. I found myself smiling in return, and after she scooped up her things, I walked her to the door. Before she left, she turned, flipping her shimmering hair as she did. "Same time tomorrow?"

I opened my mouth but had no protest readied, nor any real plans. I nodded.

"Perfect," she chirped, then was off, bouncing down the steps and headed toward the market road leading to hers. I closed the door, and turned. My mom was standing in the open archway leading into the kitchen holding her phone.

"Pizza or Chinese?"

-------

The rest of the week continued much the same. Got up. Fretted and obsessed over making myself appear as anything but a frazzled squirrel given human form. Threw myself into my studies, and after school, Melissa would tag along to my place, which after Monday, had become the unofficial study grounds. Thursday broke that routine with another pointless council meeting where we discussed the spring semiformal. I hadn't been to a school dance since those mandatory ones in middle school, and I had little to offer.

Friday came, and we had another session at my place where I put Melissa through her paces using previous worksheets she'd either butchered or otherwise failed at. She spent some time working at the graphs as I observed. Her thick, shiny hair was in a loose plait slung over one shoulder, and I could see every line along her neck and collar over her white ruffled crop. She was the kind of girl you'd expect to be the quintessential cheerleader, but our school had no such capacity, and barely the means to support a decent, if not excellent, basketball team.

She glanced over with one of her innocent, bright eyed smiles, gleeful at her own improvement, and I felt my breath catch up in my throat. Why was I staring at her? I quickly pulled my knees up, burying my face in my textbook.

I walked Melissa to the door as usual. She was leaving a bit earlier to be home for dinner, but she dawdled for a moment.

"So, my place is free tomorrow if you wanna switch things up and study there," she began. "Dad finished the renovations yesterday...I can't guarantee it won't still smell a bit like paint, but everything works, and we'd have the place to ourselves. Everyone's going to visit my cousin's family."

I had questions, many questions, and like a fool, I started with the least relevant one. "Why aren't you going with?"

Melissa sighed, rolling her eyes. "They just. They're really traditional and backwards over there. Make us put our heads down and hold hands and say grace before every meal, that sort of thing. I just hate the vibe, you know?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess."

Melissa chewed her lip, gazing up the road at some kids playing street hockey. "My cousins are totally kids of the cornfield or whatever you call it. Roger is like 3 years older than me and still has a bowl cut. Like dude, come on."

I tried to imagine what her cousin might look like, a taller, older, male version of Melissa...with a bowl cut. I chuffed out a pathetic, stifled laugh. Melissa gave me a wry little grin. "Yeah, see, you get it. Anyways, tomorrow. I'll text you!"

I waved her off and leaned against the door after closing it. A whole day hanging out with Melissa? I mean we'd be studying, but...

There was no denying it. I'd spent more time with Melissa over the past week than I had over the course of any week with anyone I might call a 'friend' since entering high school. And I was starting to look forward to it. I'd never assumed she was a caricature of stupid, mean girl, 'dumb blonde' femininity, but I'd never thought someone like her and I could get along, or share any common interests. Certainly not Trig. But she was so easy to talk to, so responsive, and just fun to be around.

I wasn't ready to think of her as a 'friend' just yet, but she was getting pretty damn close to fitting the bill. I sighed, and padded my way to the kitchen to prepare leftovers so mum would have a nice warm meal at the end of her week.

-------

Saturday brought a bit of a chill with it, one of those foggy, cool spring mornings. I pulled on some jeans and a blue wool pullover, tugged on my denim jacket, grabbed my bookbag, and said bye to my mum, sprawled out in her housecoat on the couch, watching reruns. I shivered for a moment as I stepped outside, pulling my jacket tighter around me, and made my way up the road to Melissa's.

The market road was bustling, wide sidewalks of interlocking brick overtaken by stalls spilling out of greengrocers, passing double-wide baby strollers, and window shoppers. I crossed to the residential side, and in less than 20 minutes found myself at Melissa's door. Her house was a tall building of white stone and fiber siding, and while still fairly modest compared to some of the larger abodes and mcmansions in the neighbourhood, was easily twice the size of my own, though given she was part of a family of 5 as opposed to 2, that didn't surprise me.

What did was the way Melissa yanked open the door a sheer moment before I could knock, her face already split in one of her contagious smiles.

"Hey Robin!"

I must have looked surprised as hell, because she just laughed, stood aside and waved me in. Clutching my backpack straps with both hands, I stepped reverently into her house, onto the scratchy brown welcome mat over the well preserved wooden floors. I slipped off my shoes and placed them on the rack next to me.

"Welcome to Chez Redmond," Melissa smirked. "C'mon."

She led the way through the spacious foyer and past the staircase into a modern kitchen, one of those gleaming, model home looking spaces with marbletop counters, large, stainless steel appliances, and an island in the middle enveloped by stools that served as a table. She gestured absently to it, and I laid my bookbag there as she opened the fridge. Her form was silhouetted by the fluorescent glow within, and she looked beyond comfy and carefree-given she hadn't needed to leave the house, she was barefoot, wearing only a ripped and cropped black tank top bearing the faint, faded remains of a Hole album cover, and small, light blue short shorts. Her mane hung in tresses over her shoulders and back, giving her that flawless 'just rolled out of bed' look. I heard her clinking and rustling around and quickly looked away, busying myself with getting my notebooks and math text out.

Melissa joined me moments later, first putting out some hummus and baby veggies, and then a big glass pitcher of dark, nearly opaque iced tea, with slices of lemon swimming around in it. She gave me a wink, pouring me a cup.

"Unsweetened, of course."

"Don't let a southerner catch wind of that," I quipped, gratefully taking a sip.

She chuckled, then dipped a baby carrot in the hummus and popped it in her mouth. "Alright," she said as she chewed. "Let's give that practice test a shot."

I got out the copy of last year's test and answers and set her to work. We talked a ton, of course, joking and opining, but she hacked away at it pretty steadily, asking as few questions as her pride would allow, and by lunchtime, she was satisfied with a completed exam.

"Whew," she sighed, before swallowing half her glass. "I swear I feel tired after all that. Let's take over the living room."

"Not surprising," I replied absent mindedly as I followed her into a living room that dwarfed my own twice over, and joined her on the other side of a seemingly endless couch. "Mental effort takes energy, same as physical."

"Saying I'll have to get used to thinking for a change?"

I blustered, searching for a reply, equal parts defence, justification, and reassurance, and Melissa just fell into a fit of giggles. "I'm just kidding around! Besides, I'm alright being a bit dumb. Feels like there's some wisdom in recognising that about myself, y'know?"

"You're not dumb, Melissa."

She gave me one of her sweet, appreciative smiles, and again, I stupidly rambled on. "Seriously, you've made significant improvement over the last week alone. I wouldn't call that dumb. You're a hard worker, and..." I trailed off.

Melissa arched one brow, the growing signs of a smile rising on her face. "And?"

I gawped at her for a moment. Her face was devoid of makeup, making the barest folds around her eyes more genuine than ever. I shook my head.

"You're just...actually really nice," I mumbled.

"Oof, another backhanded compliment from Woolcott," Melissa jokingly lamented. "Well if it helps, you're definitely not just a nerdy wallflower."

I winced, giving a wry smile. "No, that sounds like me to a tee. And besides," I continued, echoing her words, "I think there's a kind of wisdom to seeing myself for what I am."