She didn’t know how she’d gotten the guts.
Leaving the hell that was Margate behind must have taken them, reflecting back. Honestly, it’d just been desperation.
She’d wanted a new life.
Figuring out that she was a lesbian had been a harsh slap in the face. She’d never really considered… she’d thought that all girls had felt that way. That all girls thought about other women that way. That all girls didn’t enjoy kissing, found sex a chore, one that was necessary, the tax for being a woman. Now, she was past her teens and early twenties and felt like her life had passed her by – her chance to be a young, fun, artsy lesbian her had felt like it’d escaped her.
So she, on a whim, had packed her bag and left.
She’d left the idiot she’d turned to for physical affection. Saying goodbye to the sex was easy – every time he touched her, she began dissociating, so leaving that behind was such a relief. She’d left the nights she spent crying in the shower, feeling used, confused, and alone. She’d dyed her hair blonde, put on red lipstick, and never looked back until London.
Chatting with other, older lesbians had helped her. Many of them had felt the same way. They’d shown her that life wasn’t over. Her new friend Rachel had shown her that she could even have a family in the future. Adopt children, if she wanted, or not. She had that choice. Her friend Kesha had shown her that she could give back to LGBT youth through volunteer work. Ianto had shown her that there was a place for all types, and his boyfriend Jack kept encouraging her to put herself out there with the cheesiest lines she’d ever heard.
She had texts and phone calls to hang out within their small group. She’d pined for one friend, now she had four! They watched bad movies, ate Ianto’s gluten free, soy free, raw vegan desserts, and went to the occasional pub when Rachel and her wife Kesha found a sitter for Bobby and Dakota.
She finally started to find a community of people who cared about her, enjoyed things she enjoyed, and found a voice. She fell into her own. She felt able to be brave, to be strong.
To be ‘New Holly’.
So when she’d gotten a piece shown in an exhibit at the Modern Art Museum, she’d had conversation with the most beautiful, vibrant, and funny woman she’d ever met before. Bill. Oh, but she was perfect. Soft features, kissable lips, dark eyes she could get lost in… and oh, conversation with her was so easy. She was charismatic, and she made you feel cared about.
Old Holly would politely wait for a move. Give nothing away. But this was New Holly.
New Holly gave Bill a napkin with her number written on it in eyeliner pencil.
The phone call happened thirty seconds later, before she was even done walking away. The smile that woman pulled out of her was unreal.
After a walk through SoHo and some amazing dumplings, Bill pulled out a Polaroid Snap Camera and took a picture of them, for her photo album.
Blushing, Holly had asked, “You think I belong in your album?”
The grin in response could have blinded from its radiance. “Oh yes. The first of many.”
They’d forgotten to snap a photo of their first kiss, seconds after. But Holly had known with that first kiss, this was going to be something special.
For the first time, she could feel.
Old Holly was gone.
New Holly had a girlfriend, and four rambunctious friends who would be dying to meet her.
Holly was finally happy.
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A gift for @pipertennant