Continuation story about Em and Brie, two cuties being very communicative and lovey-dovey. Written from the point of view of Brie.
Note: Brie refers to Em with the they pronouns in her head because they’re Em’s main pronouns.
It’s lunch and I was so happy to finally be out of class and back again, holding Em’s hand and telling them all about how cute Em was. It still fascinated me how fast this new burst of happiness happened.
One minute I was staring into their brown eyes and the next I was kissing them. They had exceptional lips. Like, impossibly kissable lips. I could feel my face warm at the thoughts that invaded my mind since Saturday.
Even their room was cute. It showed that they cared about their own space. I was so nervous the first minutes, but Em was so casual that my nerves stood no chance against Em’s charm.
I checked my phone and got one snap video: it’s of me. Walking with a dreamy look. I looked back and peered into the doorway of one of the classrooms that had been empty and saw Em. They held their phone up, taking a new video of me, I bet.
“How dare you take those videos without the flower-crown filter?” I faked a glare. Their brown eyes crinkled at the edges as they grinned.
“Because you’re too flawless to need a filter,” they said. I tried my best to not grin back but I couldn’t stop the lift of my lips. I sighed.
“Why are you so good at this? Are you secretly the best flirt?”
“Uh-huh, I win awards all the time,” they retorted. Our hands easily gravitated together. Their feet shuffled around but eventually they stepped closer. Em was taller than I was, which was both a huge turn on and made giddy butterflies explode in my stomach. I’ve never not been the tallest girl. I quite liked my figure, I had a great amount of chub and roundness along with toned legs due to my love for taking long walks. Being around Em made me feel aware of my body. I wondered if they noticed the tiny differences, like how I had to raise myself to reach their lips. Speaking of the devil, their lips smiled down on me, obviously seeing how flustered I was getting by my own thoughts. I didn’t even bother look around, I kissed Em. Their lipstick was matte so I didn’t care about smudging. I didn’t care for anything but the feel of their curly hair against my fingers and the softness of their hips where I put my hand.
Em pulled back, a sigh leaving their nose, their eyes closed.
“Brie,” they whispered my name and a ginormous part of me perked up. “You say I’m smooth then do something as magical as that.”
“There is no rule against both of us being extremely talented at this thing,” I reasoned. They breathed a short laugh and nodded.
“As expected, you’re right,” Em said ruefully.
I laughed and grabbed back onto their arm. They had the softest over-sized shirt, which made the pink undertones in their golden brown skin shine through. I couldn’t help but stare up at them as they told me all about their classes since we parted ways after homeroom. Thankfully, both Em and I weren’t in any clubs so I was looking forward to leaving together. I rode my bike to school but I didn’t foresee any problem getting it into the trunk of Em’s van.
I got lost in my thoughts and I didn’t notice that we were walking to the cafeteria in a comfortable silence until I heard Ahmad’s voice. He had a booming voice and it always felt like every word that came out of his mouth was an announcement of impossible importance.
“What is this purity I see with my own two eyes?”
I looked at Em and grinned. We definitely didn’t feel the need to hide our relationship and Em expressed that they did not need to use a different set of pronouns. I admired that about them. Being out or closeted both took courage.
Em and Ahmad had been friends way before I entered their small group. It was actually through his other friend, Amir, that I could talk to Em. We bonded over Harry Potter first day and have been friends since.
“Believe it or not but it’s official, the rumors are true, Brie and I are the cutest couple this sad school has to offer,” Em told Ahmad. Em had this persona around Ahmad that I couldn’t help but love. Em felt truly free to be as goofy as they liked. Amir, while not the quieter of the three, was the more observant. He had a smile on his face when I locked eyes with him. I felt bashful.
“They’ll be done in a minute,” Amir said to me as he nodded to Ahmad and Em. Em was definitely on a different scale around one another. When I first started hanging out with them at lunch, ages old anxiety spurned in me. What if I wasn’t funny or smart enough? They always seemed to talk about obscure things. That feeling did not last. Ahmad was far too engulfing of all fun stuff to truly leave anyone out of a conversation and Amir had his own humor which he downplayed with how quiet he seemed.
“I’m happy for you, Brie, you and Em both deserve one another,” Amir said between gulps of orange juice. I beamed. There was something so calming about his long-lashed slow blink that just hypnotized.
“Are you worried it’ll be weird?”
“Weird how?” He quirked a thick brow. I looked down at my lunch.
“New girl in town, stealing your best friend… that kind of weird,” I murmured. I felt his eyes on me so I looked up.
“Em isn’t that kind of friend and I don’t believe you are either, B.”
“So, does this mean we can’t come along to see Guardians of the Galaxy II with you?” Ahmad sat next to me, leaving Em the seat next to Amir on our four chaired table. Em looked longingly at me. I smiled not so secretly.
“Nah, we’re all going except Brie and I will be making out most of the time,” Em teased. I could feel the heat in my cheeks which was funny since I didn’t believe I blushed that often before Saturday.
“I’d be jealous if I wasn’t a hundred and ten percent into the movie, sorry Em, but exchanging saliva doesn’t win over Marvel movies,” Ahmad said as he scratched at his beard. At age eighteen, he had an impressive hair growth which he often proudly presented as his only Arab heritage besides the Chicken Majboos his mom made.
“Said the asshole who skipped going to Civil War with Amir and I last May because he went with his freaking crush!”
“Hey! When a hottie like Jason asks you to a movie, you say yes!” he defended excitedly then deflated, “besides, he only wanted to butter me up so he can ask me for that dumb favor.” He looked so miserable. I have heard of Ahmad’s many crushes and his hard work trying to make them happen but as soon as Ahmad would tell anyone he was ace, people simply thought he was not ‘boyfriend-material.’ It was ridiculous. Just because he identified as ace didn’t mean he couldn’t be in a relationship.
“Wait, what favor?” I forgot this part. Ahmad’s face fell even more and I almost felt bad for reminding him.
Amir said fondly: “Ahmad’s a great photographer and Jason is a shallow ass who wanted some headshots.”
“How outdated. Take your own fail black and white headshots!” Em threw their hands in the air.
“I’m so sorry people are trash, Ahmad.” I gave him some of the strawberries I packed.
“Hey, I’m your girlfriend, I call dibs on all food you are sharing,” Em said, pouting.
“Here, you can have my baby carrots,” Amir offered them some.
“Baby carrots, the only way you can eat a carrot,” they said as they held it up.
“Actually,” I started, their eyes turned to me from their lunch, “I like to eat shredded carrots.”
“Oh sweet child.” They put a hand to their heart and looked at me as if I just said that I’ve never had chocolate in my life.
“It’s good!” I defended.
“No need to convince me, you’re the one eating it, babe.” Babe, my heart jumped at the nickname. I saw Ahmad smirking at my face and I waved him off.
“Don’t mind Em, she would tell you not to lick a spoon of cheese then eat chips that are three weeks old.”
“Oh my god, Amir, don’t expose me in front of my girlfriend plus cheese makes you less smart.”
“I’m pretty sure that train has left waaay before I started licking spoonfuls of cheese, Em,” Amir said with a shrug.
“Uhm, could you not, please? This is positivity hour. Only carrots get bashed today,” Em retorted.
We had barely finished eating when the bell rang. Em and I headed to the restroom together after waving goodbye to the boys. After drying their hands, Em slipped them around my waist. I looked up and noticed that we were the only ones in the restroom. I didn’t feel the need to say anything, physical contact felt natural to us after the many ways we discussed it last night.
Flashback to Last Night, Sunday
When I got a text at seven pm from Em, asking me if I wanted to grab some dessert, I looked longingly at the cookies I had been planning to finish off while watching an episode of Hannibal but didn’t take long to say yes. My mom worried about it being late but knowing I was going out with Em, she let me go. I had only met Em once but they met my mom several times since my mom also worked at this salon where they worked part time.
I was contemplating pulling my hair into a ponytail or leaving it loose when I got the text that they waited outside. I said a quick goodbye to my mom and left. The car was blasting a soft Troye Sivan song when I got in.
“Hey,” I breathed out. Em’s hands were on the steering wheel and I didn’t know how to go on asking them if we could hold hands. They turned to look at me and smiled.
“What will come out of my mouth in the next hour is induced by me listening nonstop to Hayley Kiyoko and Troye Sivan,” they warned as they got on the road.
“Just your average queer as hell Monday night, then,” I said teasingly. They laughed.
“Basically…” they trailed off. “Sorry this is kind of sudden but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.” I had been toying with the seatbelt when they said that.
“There is zero need to apologize, Em, I’m really happy you came to pick me up.” A fresh batch of butterflies got set loose in my stomach, making me so queasy yet so giddy.
“I thought we could talk about us and the whole going to school tomorrow,” they said between stealing glances at me. I wondered if Em would notice that I didn’t wear any lipstick, just lipbalm. Then I focused on what they said and I tensed a little bit. I didn’t lose faith in Em but I was still too cautious of my feelings to not feel a twinge of fear at these words.
“I definitely want to hold your hand and hug you tomorrow,” Em said. I turned to look at their profile. The streetlights threw a golden light that made their clean face shine beautifully. That stuff was breathtaking.
“Is that bad?” they asked.
“That’s awesome!” I remembered to reply. I saw their chest rise and fall in a deep breath. I took that as a sign that I could somewhat calm down now. Great, now if only my head convinced itself of this vital piece of information, everything would be peachy.
“Cool,” they breathed out.
They drove for a while and for all the life of me, I couldn’t remember the location of the closest Baskin Robbins. I didn’t even want us to get there. I wanted to listen to the playlist, which sounded like it was filled with Troye Sivan’s work, and watch Em cruise around.
“You’re a good driver, aren’t you? You’re one of those types: one hand on the wheel and another on my boo,” I joked.
“Matter of fact,” they said loudly then remembered to turn down the volume, “sorry, I forget to use my inside voice.”
“Back to my point, I really love driving?” they said the last with a questioning look, as if they didn’t believe what they said. “I have a lot of siblings so I didn’t even need to get a license but because none of them wanted to step up and be my chauffeur till the end of days, I had to level up and let Jesus take the wheel.”
“Ah, so it’s purely Jesus right now? Would Jesus mind that I’m a non-practicing Jew?”
“Jesus loves all of his children, I say as I remember that I’m a non-practicing Muslim,” Em laughed.
“And in that moment, I swear we were Christian,” I said.
“Someone knows her pop culture references,” Em giggled. They had this cute laugh, or assortment of laughter types. They’d laugh very loudly at school when Ahmad did something outrageous, or just end up shaking silently at one of Amir’s deadpanned jokes. But around me, they had this high pitched giggle that almost sounded like Em was screaming.
“Thirteen year old me had a lot of time to get obsessed over Emma Watson,” I told Em. They easily found a parking at the mall. They put the car in park and turned to me.
“I see, it’s always been Ezra Miller for me. Something about his face that just begged to get punched with a mouth,” they pondered almost dreamily. I snorted. Finally, I could reach over and grab their hand. The familiar scar on their wrist, a cat injury, the nails painted lilac. I wanted to know these details.
“Quite the aggressive one, aren’t you?” I said. They leaned closer and I unbuckled my seatbelt so I could get more comfortable.
“It’s the kind of shit I say to make others laugh, never quite paid attention to how tumblr is very aggressive with its crushes,” Em reasoned. They ran their free hand in their hair. It was its curly self, framing their face and reaching their mid-chest. They wore a grey t-shirt that was oversized with what looked like leggings.
“Ugh, tell me about that tumblr mentality of calling everything trash as if somehow I’m gonna stop thinking of that word as something negative.” I was a bit distracted by the softness of their palm in mine. I felt so cheesy as I ran my fingers across every bit of their hand. Was this what people did when they started dating? Map out the skin of their partners? Would I know the back of Em’s hand like people often said they knew their own? I blushed at my own train of thought.
“And the whole demonizing of women of color in series or even just white women for ‘breaking up their ships’? Disgusting stuff.” Em huffed but I doubted it was all because of our topic and maybe, I thought gloatingly, because of the effect I had on them.
“Having a tumblr account as a teenage did not help me one bit, shit went downhill almost every day. I had to have a cleansing of who I followed every six months,” I told them, shrugging.
“I can’t help myself from digging up crap on tumblr. I just can’t stop going to the tag of my favorite books and finding really weird posts.” They reached over to grab my free hand, as if in payback and began to tickle the palm.
“I was in the Hannibal fandom, as a kid! I suffered!” I exclaimed. I squeezed Em’s hands.
“I never watched season three of Hannibal, I just couldn’t, the news of it being cancelled broke my heart,” they sighed as they pulled me closer. The console was between us now, I turned my body all the way to theirs as if a sunflower to the sun.
“Oh, my god, you have to watch it!” I began excitedly. I was very passionate about my TV Shows. “I have this online friend called Marwa who’s like twenty-two and her meta posts are excellent. I once commissioned her for a drawing and I have it taped up on my wall till this day.”
“I have to see this drawing one day,” they murmured. Their breath was minty across my face and my skin felt electric with how good it felt. Em slipped one of their arms around my torso, bringing me closer. I felt hyper aware of every inch of skin they touched with their fingertips. My hands found purchase in Em’s sides and they slid to their back. Em wasn’t ticklish, thank god.
“Maybe I’ll take you into my room one day,” I breathed. My eyes fluttered close. I saw her mouth widen in a smile.
“One day soon?”
“Very soon,” I whispered as I closed my eyes.
The kind of kissing that happens in a semi-dark parking lot was the kind of kissing I repeated over and over in movies. I yearned for the softening voices, the wandering hands, the subtlety in slowness. Everything felt tender and I believed that nothing bad could ever happen when it was shot in slow motion. Kissing Em felt like those slow motion videos of a flower blooming except the flower was my heart, my mouth, my hands. There were no discerning movement beside the give and take of lips, how easy it was to open my mouth and taste their lip. Toothpaste and something warm I couldn’t pinpoint. I didn’t bother try to explain to myself the logistics of kissing Em, I just had a good time. A great time. A grand time.
When they pulled away, I involuntarily let out a little whimper. I didn’t know I was capable of sounding whiny for anything but sweets. Em pecked my lips one more time and reminded me that I was going to figuratively have my ice cream and eat it too.
I was tempted to gently persuade Em that we should be making out but they gave me a shrug and a smirk. I suddenly wanted access to all of their thoughts. Did I look as red as I felt?
For a Monday night, the mall was not very packed. I expected people would have been wasting away the last minutes before school started up for the week. We walked hand in hand, commenting on some snotty kid and wondering where their parent was since it was nearly seven thirty. Call me conservative, but kids should be in bed by eight. The Baskin Robbins was located in the heart of the food court and the bless of it being seven thirty was that most of the seats were empty.
Em treated me to a combination of chocolate, mango and cheesecake. All three of my favorites.
“I usually love getting a milkshake from here but they don’t have any milk,” they commented with a mouth full of chocolate.
“Then get a smoothie, they’re practically the same.” The mango was exceptionally fruity tonight so I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face.
“Excuse me? Smoothies are made by using fruit and ice hence making them totally different from milkshakes which are frothy heavenly mix of ice-cream and milk.”
“Wow, I sure don’t want to be a smoothie right now.” I bit off more than I could handle and winced at the brain freeze.
“Somehow, I think it’s karma since you’re disrespecting milkshakes,” they noted. I stuck my tongue out and bumped their knee with mine.
“Let’s play twenty questions,” I suggested. Following the kissing in the car, I wanted to know what level of PDA Em felt comfortable with.
“Please check my FAQ, thanks,” they said instead. I laughed but I nudged them with my knee. “Alright, alright, my number one fan, since you suggested it, you start.”
I took a second to think. “Do you like posting cheesy pictures on Instagram?” Em had a cute feed filled with their cat and books they read while I, on the other hand, would go three weeks without a post then post thirty five pictures of clouds.
“Yes! Definitely. I love making people jealous.” They demonstrated this by taking a really nice picture of our hands holding the cones side by side.
“What’s your favorite meal?” they asked.
“Easy, breakfast. You can have sweets and no one will dare comment.”
“A girl after my own heart,” they faked to swoon with a hand on their forehead.
“My turn. What are your preferred pronouns?”
“I use she and they interchangingly but I’ve been trying to be more neutral lately. It just feels better. For example, I really don’t like gendered nicknames like queen and goddess.”
“That’s understandable. Is it okay if I use they in public for you?”
“That was my turn but I’ll let it slide since you’re so cute.” I laughed. “I wouldn’t mind she in school because I’m not out.”
“Not even to the guys.”
“Is there a reason why… if you don’t mind sharing it, of course,” I backtracked.
“It’s just… They’ve known me for a while and although I trust them to respect my wishes, I don’t feel the need to actually explain it. They never did treat me differently because I’m…” they pointed vaguely at themselves.
“It doesn’t bother you to be misgendered?”
“Well, I am more bothered when femininity is used as a weapon to degrade me than when I’m referred to as a she.” They shrugged.
I nodded. It’s not a lot to take in since I’ve dealt with issues of gender since I was eleven. I was lucky enough to start hormone blockers at such a young age and being supported by my family in my decisions. I reached out and brushed Em’s hand.
“Enough about me, you owe me…” they count in their head, “four questions!”
I had nothing that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing not simply because I was naive enough to trust so quickly but because Em gave me enough reason to honestly believe they’d accept me no matter what.The minute they took to think of good questions didn’t stress me as it normally would have.
“So, you probably are familiar with these episodes I get where I can’t get out of my head,” they started. “I simply can’t just switch off whatever part in my mind that makes me doubt so many things so… my question is more of a request. Can I get insight into your mind when I doubt something?”
I sat back in my chair. I’ve seen first hand the effect Em’s depression had on them in school.
“Yes. Anytime. I mean it.”
Their whole demeanor unfurled. Their shoulders untensed and their chest rose in a deep breath.
“Thank you.” I reached over and put their hand to my mouth, kissing the knuckles softly.
Present time, Monday afternoon
“What are you thinking of?”
I had no idea if this was one of the times Em needed insight into my mind but it didn’t matter, I would never not let them know. “I’m thinking of that picture you took last night… and of last night in entirety.”
Em put their chin on my shoulder and I wondered if they could hear my heart pounding. My body eased itself back into theirs, and I could feel the warmth from their chest, making every hair on my back stand up in attention. I pulled out a tube of my gloss but I thought of it again.
“Will I need this?” I asked Em.
They gave me a knowing look in the mirror and despite the blush, I kept the eye contact, and might have even added a little smolder. They smiled and brushed the tops of my shoulder with their mouth.
“Why don’t we find out?”
They turned me in their arms, keeping me in place against the sinks. They leaned down, their mouth was bare, they had removed their lipstick, and I couldn’t help but sigh in anticipation. I loved the idea of initiating kisses but the electricity of excitement that tingled in my very fingertips was a new and addictive sensation. My lashes fluttered closed and I felt like a damsel very much in distress. Cause of distress: her beautiful partner whose mouth latched onto hers as slow as molasses. I reciprocated very enthusiastically, I could feel an intention behind Em’s excruciating movements. They tugged and licked, at languid speed. It all felt so obscene and amazing.
“You’re going to make me swoon.”
“‘Going to’? I’m somewhat shocked you’re not swooning already,” they whispered right before tugging me closer and kissing me the way I’ve only dreamed of being kissed.
This part was tricky since I was writing in the point of view of a trans girl. I would welcome any advice about how to many any part better. Thank you so much for tuning in for Em and Brie’s cute story. Anything I post in the future will probably feature them and their friends: Ahmad and Amir!
Special thank you to my wonderful friend Fadwa who beta read this and swooned over it and generally has been very nice. And to all my friends on twitter (Leah, Mason, Sinead. Mer, and many more.)
I wrote this because this is what I always want to see: fluff and queerness.