Page 2 of Stuck with You

“You bitch,” he groaned. Before I knew what was happening I was on the floor again, Broken Nose Guy kneeling on my back. I turned my head in time to watch as the woman I was fighting with spun around and kneed the guy who’d grabbed her right in the balls. He dropped to his knees with a howl as she took off running.

Then I heard the sirens.

***

Thirty minutes later we were being booked at the local police station for assault and disturbing the peace. Seated back to back in the cramped police station, the officers interrogated us from their desks. That’s when I realized why the woman looked familiar.

Taylor Stannich was my biggest rival in high school. We’d been the leaders of rival ‘cool girl’ groups and somehow everything we did back then was a competition. Or a battle.

I was the valedictorian and she was the salutatorian, our grade point averages differing by less than half a point. She was the prom queen, but I was homecoming queen. She edited the newspaper, and I edited the yearbook.

But our biggest competition was boys. After Taylor stole my boyfriend sophomore year I gave her next boyfriend a blowjob under the bleachers. We both flirted shamelessly, moving from guy to guy, constantly trying to one-up each other and get whatever guy the other girl was interested in to go for us instead.

And then there were the pranks. I’d lost count of how many days I spent in detention because I’d dropped gum in Taylor’s hair or messed with her locker or ‘accidentally’ hit her in the face with a soccer ball.

I hadn’t seen Taylor since graduation though. I’d forgotten all about her until we ended up in this jail cell. I was too embarrassed to call any of my friends or family to bail me out, deciding to stay here until we appeared before the judge inthe morning. Taylor made the same choice, and now we were cellmates.

A huge yawn split my face. God, I was so tired. I needed some sleep. Looking around, I realized there was a big problem here – there was only one cot in this jail cell.

Taylor

What a freaking night.

First, I’d ended up at the wrong bar. I’d meant to go to the lesbian bar across the street, intending to have a few drinks and maybe get laid. I should have just left, but instead I’d made the bad choice of trying to rescue a woman from some asshole who grabbed her.

For my trouble I had a bruised jaw, multiple scratches, and oh yeah, an arrest record. Also my sexy new dress was filthy after rolling around on the floor. I’d probably have to burn the damned thing.

Realizing that Aubrey West was the reason for my terrible night was just icing on the cake. I’d hated her all the way through high school. Stuck up little bitch. Although with the benefit of age andexperience I now realized that I’d also had a crush on her, but I didn’t know what to do with those feelings back then.

It wasn’t until I went to college that I realized that it was okay to be attracted to women. They hadn’t really advertised that option in the small, conservative Christian town I’d grown up in. It took another few years for me to lean into my desire to be dominant. Not all the time, of course. There were some times that I just wanted to be a pillow princess and let someone take care of me, but generally I got the most pleasure from taking control of any situation.

Speaking of which…

“Why are you pacing and sighing like that?” I asked my cellmate, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my voice.

In high school Aubrey had been cute. Fifteen years later, she was stunning. Long, sleek black hair. Large, almond shaped brown eyes. Light brown skin that she’d inherited from her Colombian mother. Her hips were narrow, but she had full, perky breasts and – this was new – tattoos running down both of her lightly muscled arms. I wondered where else she was hiding ink.

“There’s only one cot in here.”

The cell was small, intended for one person, but they had a drunk guy in one cell and a wife beater in the other, leaving us to share the remaining option. This suburb of Seattle was far enough out that it wasn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity.

I rolled my eyes internally. This is why I never left the city.

Scooting over to one side, I patted my hand on the thin piece of foam they called a mattress. I had towels that were thicker.

“Please. Join me, Princess,” I said sarcastically.

She frowned, a little furrow appearing between her brows.

“It doesn’t look very clean.”

Ah, so she still was a little snob who thought she was better than everyone. My palm itched with the desire to pull her over my lap, push up that tight little dress, and turn that perky ass red.

“It’s either that or the floor,” I said dismissively. “I don’t really care what you pick, but it looks like this floor hasn’t seen a mop in a while.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, she dropped onto the other edge of the cot, kicking off her shoes with a deep sigh.

“So, what have you been doing since high school?” she asked, closing her eyes as she settled her back against the cinderblock wall behind the cot.

---