Not My Type

 

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Introduction

What do you do when loves finds you and it's not your type?

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Chapter 1

“Shit!” she exclaimed putting her wounded finger in her mouth, tears forming before she’d fully registered the pain. “Shit, shit, shit!” she screamed, feeling an entirely new pain, as she heard her agony echo off the walls of her new, empty apartment. Sitting back, away from the box cutter that had assaulted her finger, she let the tears come. It didn't seem possible she could have more tears; she’d cried herself dry days ago. But here she was, once again, crying. Feeling wretched and most of all hating herself. Because Clara knew, deep down, that there was no one to hate for her current life but herself.

How many people can say they met the love of their life and that person loved them back with a ferocity that was astounding? How many people have known what it is like to lie in someone's arms and feel, for once, like everything in the world is just as it should be? And that this feeling, right here with this person, was perfection? Clara doubted many people could say that. She could and she did up until 2 weeks ago, when she told the love her life it was over. She watched those hazel eyes widen, the mouth turn down and the whole body turn rigid in shock.

"But, why? Why Clara? We love each other, this is IT! This is what we've been searching for. I don't understand." Tears formed, slipping easily down, one after another, until Clara turned away in shame.

She opened her mouth to speak, almost laughing at how she must look like a fish gasping for air. Her mouth opening and closing, each new thought escaping as silence on her lips. Finally she said, "We speak a different language. I don't know how to learn yours. And while I love you more than anyone I've ever loved and I don't want to live life without you, you’ve known all along, you're not my type."

Her stomach rolled with sickness and she tasted the lie in her mouth. Melanie looked at her, hazel eyes hardening. "Because I’m gay. I thought more of you. Love doesn't see gender, it just is. What we have, is love. Whether I speak gay and you speak straight or not. This is all there is Clara. And you're throwing it away because of fear."

Melanie was right. Fear had been her best friend since she was a child. And it looked like she and fear would grow old together. She watched Melanie get up, marveling once again in the beauty of her. Long black hair, slender legs and full breasts. She felt what she always felt when she looked at Melanie; awe, attraction, desire, love and yes, fear.

"If I'm not your type Clara, then you don't have a type. And if you ever change your mind…” she didn’t finish but bent down and gently kissed Clara’s mouth. Clara could taste their tears mingling and knew, without a doubt, that she was broken.

 

 

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