//
Author's Note
: This story is part of a small collection of Lesbian stories I'll be uploading this week. This particular one is an edited resubmission of a story that was previously posted on Literotica. Apologies if you've already read this (although, given the low view count before, that seems unlikely!). This one was posted in a different category, so overlap is unlikely.
Enjoy!//
Y?
Quinn whined as she tossed her phone down into the cup holder. As if the droning voice of her mother in the back of her head wasn't enough to make her pay attention to the road, she also found that her memory of the neighborhood was lacking now that she was trying to drive through it. She distinctly remembered using two blue houses on different streets as markers when she used to ride her bike, but either one of them had since been repainted or she was completely in the wrong area; they seemed equally possible under the circumstances.
She sighed and tried to mellow. She was
not
in the complete wrong area. She'd ridden her bike to Trish's house a few thousand times. She knew the way. She knew she was close, and just needed to stop doubting herself for ten freaking seconds.
And then she was there. Quinn gave a small surprised laugh as she pulled up to the curb and put her little Volkswagen in park. Trish's house was whiter than she remembered, and it took her a few seconds to realize that the big tree in the front yard was gone. Her phone buzzed in the cup holder, and she sighed as she picked it up again.
R u srsly outside my house rn?
"Yes," she said aloud, as she typed the same and pressed send. She unplugged her phone, slipped it into her bag, and took a long, deep breath. And then another one. And then another one. Her throat tightened as she opened her door and stepped out into the street. Butterflies swirled in her middle as she rounded the front of her car. Same color BMW 3 series parked in the driveway, though the one she was looking at was newer than the one she remembered them having.
"Well!"
Quinn gasped, nearly falling back off of the first step to the porch, and pressed a hand against her chest to calm herself. Trish's mom stood there, propping open the screen door with a big smile.
"It is
lovely
to see you again, Quinn!"
"Hello Mrs. Smith."
"My goodness! How many years has it been?"
She bit her lip as she stepped through the front door. "I'm... not really sure?" That wasn't true. Quinn knew exactly how long, almost to the day.
"Well, I'm sure Patty will be really happy to see you. Was she expecting you?"
"Um..." Quinn ran a few fingers over her temple to gather some stray blonde bangs. "Sort of. We got assigned to do a presentation together."
"Ok!" Mrs. Smith said. "I think she's up in her room. You remember the way, don't you?"
"Yeah, I-I do."
Mrs. Smith smiled and headed deeper into the house, leaving Quinn alone on the landing. It felt like she stood there, with her hand on the railing, for an eternity, but it was only a matter of seconds before she was upstairs and moving down the hall.
"
Jesus
," Trish yelled, before Quinn was done knocking. "Yes. Come in."
It was surreal to be back. The walls were covered in different posters and the furniture had been moved around a little bit, but it was still Trish's bedroom. Just like that, she was ten again. So many sleepovers. So many memories. But then Trish spun around in her chair.
"Not cool," Trish said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Not cool."
"I know." Quinn blushed as she shut the door behind her. "I'm sorry."
"Whoa, you're... you're
sorry?
Just like that?"
"Trish—"
"Why couldn't we just do this over Skype so I wouldn't have to look at you? I don't want you here, Quinn."
Quinn clenched her teeth and looked away. "Please?"
"
Please?
Are you fucking kidding me?" Trish launched herself out of her chair, and though her voice lowered a little with every step she took toward Quinn, it lost none of its edge. "I can't stop you from riding my coattails to an easy grade, but I do not fucking
want you here!
"
"I want to help!" Quinn said, matching Trish's volume. "I don't want to... ride your coattails! I don't want to ride
anything!
"
"I know that's why you got Mr. Simmons to switch us."
"No, it—"
"Tran said it was his idea, but I don't buy it. I think you put the idea in his head."
"I-I... Ugh! I kind of did—"
"I
knew it!
"
"But not because Paula likes him! I did it because—"
"You did it because you need the grade. I know you're about to fail. Everyone knows."
"Trish, could you please—"
"—not happy about this! I mean this is my fucking—
"—said I'm sorry! I don't know what else—"
"—but of course you can't, because you're
too fucking stupid.
"
"Yeah." Quinn slumped and hung her head. "Okay," she whispered. "I deserved that."
Trish stormed back to her chair and threw herself into it with a huff while the blonde sat gently on the edge of the bed.
"Don't sit there," Trish snapped. Quinn immediately jumped back up, but there were no other chairs so she stood quietly and shifted her weight back and forth. The silver lining, as far as she could tell, was that at least she was getting her money's worth out of her shoes. Or her mother's money's worth. If Trish decided to make her stand the whole time, she wouldn't be in agony. Eventually, though, Trish groaned in frustration. "Fine. Sit."
"Thank you," Quinn squeaked, as she sat. She pulled down on her skirt, feeling needlessly exposed. After a few seconds, she slid further back onto the bed and grabbed a pillow to put into her lap. It felt good to have a shield. Trish rolled her eyes and turned to her computer. "What happened to the tree?"
Trish sighed, her whole body slouching in irritation, as she turned back around again. "What tree?"
"The... what was it?" Quinn pointed out the window. "Was it an Oak? In your front yard?"
"Some kind of Dogwood," Trish said, as she spun back around and resumed typing.
"We used to spend hours in that tree. It was weird to see it gone."
"It's been gone for years," Trish said flatly. Again, Quinn hung her head. "It's a good thing you came over, though. The dead tree conversation will probably prove to be crucial to us standing in front of thirty kids and talking about Watergate for five minutes, and that simply couldn't have happened over Skype."
"I'm sorry, alright?"
Trish shook her head and continued to grumble under her breath as she typed furiously. When her computer dinged repeatedly, Quinn leaned to the side and was unsurprised to see Trish chatting. She couldn't tell with whom or what about, but she could at least make a guess at the latter.
Five minutes went by. Quinn sat quietly, red-faced and feeling increasingly uncomfortable while Trish typed and typed. Ten minutes. Fifteen.
"Ummm
—
"
"
What?
" Trish snapped.
"I just... I
—
"
"I was in the middle of something when you decided, on your own, to come over to my house,
Quinn.
"
"I know."
"I'm almost done, and then we can get this travesty over with."
"Okay."
Quinn jumped, a few moments later, at a knock at the door beside her. Mrs. Smith came in right after, with a large plate held in her hand.
"It's a good thing you knocked first," Trish said without looking back. "Quinn and I were about to get
indecent.
"
Her mother's smile never faltered as she set down the plate of carrots. "I just thought you guys might like some brain food while you work. They're low in fat, right Quinn?"
"Y-yeah," Quinn said bewilderedly.
Trish looked over her shoulder and frowned. "The low fat carrots don't taste as good as the regular ones."
"These
are
the regular ones," Mrs. Smith said. "Anyway, Quinn, it's good to see you again. I hope you come around more often!"
"Thanks," Quinn said, taking a carrot and smiling when she really didn't feel like smiling. Or eating. The older woman glanced at her daughter one last time before heading back out into the hall and closing the door behind her.
"She is just
loving
that you're here."
"Why?"
Trish exhaled loudly. "Are you kidding me? Do you know how many times she tried to pressure me into doing cheerleading too?
Ooooh, you can hang out with Quinn more! Maybe date a wide receiver!
A) because obviously I couldn't land a quarterback, and B) because this fad is probably going to be over any day now."
"Sorry," Quinn said, swallowing the tiny bit of carrot she'd forced herself to chew on.
"What is
with
you?"
Quinn couldn't keep it together any more. "I'm sorry," she cried, bringing her knees together around the pillow and curling forward. "I'm sorry."
"Jesus..." Trish grabbed the box of tissues from her desk and tossed them onto the bed in front of Quinn. Then, while the blonde was dabbing at her cheeks, she opened up the bottom drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a bag of mixed chocolates. She sat down at the head of her bed and held the open end of the bag out toward Quinn. "Eat. You'll feel better."
Whether it was Trish's bad British accent or the Remus Lupin quote that made her smile, Quinn couldn't say. She reluctantly took a mini from the top of the pile, one that had little rice crisps in it, and bit off the corner.
"Thanks."
"Did you see how she tried use you to trick me into eating that rabbit food?
'Look hon! They're Quinn-approved!'
"
"Yeah, I'm... I'm sorry I said yes. I wasn't really prepared for that."
Trish shook her head. "I like carrots as much as the next girl who doesn't like carrots, but c'mon. That was bush league."
"Does she do that a lot?"
"Do what?" the brunette asked.
"Be weird about food?"
Trish sat up and pulled the bag back. "Why are you here?"
"We have to
—
"
