Cicadas

2006

Graduation was two weeks ago. Candy and Mae's shared 18th birthday a few months before that. They were ready to step out into the world, but these two couldn't quite let go.

Down by the creek, the world softened. That heat--hellish, wet, clinging--pressed down like a judgment, making everything slow. Dragonflies hung like prayers in the air, wings trembling. Cicadas screamed their lazy agony from the trees, and the sky above split itself into layers of bleached-out blue. The creek ran low, more of a stubborn shimmer now, slipping over stones that had learned to take the sun. The mud smelled alive. The leaves above barely rustled. It was one of those southern days where even God didn't move.

The two of them had wandered off without saying much. Everybody else was back at the house--coolers cracked open, cigarettes burning low, music and laughter and boys who had no clue what they weren't getting. Mae and Candy had gone where it was quieter, where you had to listen to understand anything at all. They sat with their bare legs pressed into the damp grass, knees bent just enough, trying not to look at each other too hard.

Mae--blonde, freckled, sunburnt around the collarbones--wore a white tank top that stuck to her skin. Flat-chested, lean like a boy but with that nervous, electric edge that made her body different now. Her denim shorts rode high, frayed at the edges, pockets threatening to spill out the bottom. Her hair was up, messy and damp, a few strands stuck to her neck. She'd cut it short last fall in what she claimed wasn't a rebellion. Her lips were chapped, bitten. She kept fidgeting with a rock between her fingers, but she wasn't looking at the creek.

Candy had red hair pulled into a thick, wild ponytail, the kind that bounced when she got mad. Her tank top was green, stretched tight across the swell of her chest--more than a handful, always had been, and she knew it. She sat back on her hands, legs open a little too wide, like she didn't care who saw, even if it was just Mae. Her shorts were rolled up higher than necessary. Freckles dotted her thighs, but her eyes were sharp beneath the shade. Watching. Not saying anything yet.

They hadn't talked about it. Not really. Not when Candy kissed her that night on the back porch after graduation and then laughed like it was a joke. Not when Mae didn't laugh. Not when Mae kissed her back two days later, down by the same creek, and then ran off barefoot and trembling.

Now they were here again. Same place. Same fuckin' heat. Same ache that kept getting heavier. Something had to give.

Mae sat cross-legged now, heels pressed into the dirt, staring at the water like it owed her an answer. "You ever think," she said, voice barely above a breath, "we oughta just say it?"

Candy didn't move at first. Just blinked slow, her lashes heavy with heat and the weight of what she knew was coming. Then she laughed--not loud, not cruel, but raw. "Say what, Mae?"

Mae looked at her. Really looked. At Candy's knees all scraped up from somewhere, probably the fence near the back barn. At her hands, sunk into the grass like roots. At her chest, rising slow, falling slower. And her mouth. That mouth. The one that had made a mess of her insides for months now.

"You know what."

Candy didn't smile, not now. Just cocked her head, letting the sun catch in the gold hoops dangling from her ears. Her tank top stuck to her, outlining everything--round breasts pushed up against the fabric, sweat beading in the dip between them. She shifted, just a little, and the cotton pulled tighter.

"Mae." Her voice was quieter now. Serious. "If I say it, we can't go back."

Mae's mouth twisted, unsure if it wanted to smile or cry. "We ain't been back since May," she said. "Not since you kissed me and ran off like I was a damn fire."

Candy licked her lips--nervous, this time. Real. Her thighs tensed, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I didn't run 'cause I didn't want it. I ran 'cause I did."

That hit Mae like a slap. She felt her stomach drop, flutter, turn traitor. The heat wasn't just heat anymore--it was rising, pressing from the inside out, curling around her ribs like a secret.

"I can't keep pretending you don't fuckin' ruin me every time you look at me," Mae whispered. "I can't keep sittin' in the same room as you and pretending I don't wanna crawl into your lap and--"

Candy surged forward. One movement. One breath.

"Then don't."

Mae froze.

Candy was close now. Not touching, but close. One inch and they'd be past the point of no return. One inch and they'd never be "just friends" again. Candy's eyes were wide, like she was daring her to back out. But her hands were fists in the grass. Like she didn't trust herself if she reached.

Mae breathed out slow, then lifted her chin. "Kiss me again," she said. "But this time, mean it."

Candy moved like gravity had given her permission.

And oh, she meant it.

Candy's mouth crashed into hers like it had been waiting all summer--hot and urgent, too much teeth, too much want, and Mae didn't care. Didn't flinch. She opened for her like she'd been aching to, hands grabbing fistfuls of Candy's tank top, pulling until their teeth knocked and their lips smeared. It wasn't perfect. It was messy, desperate, like they might never get the chance again.

Candy pulled back just enough to breathe, her voice a rasp, eyes blown wide. "You taste like river water and bad decisions."

Mae grinned, flushed and trembling. "You like bad decisions."

"Love 'em," Candy growled, and then she was pushing Mae down into the muddy bank, bracing herself with one hand beside Mae's head. Their bodies were too hot, too slick with sweat, skin sticking where it touched. Candy's knee slotted between Mae's thighs and stayed there, not moving--just a weight, a suggestion.

Mae arched, hips twitching. "Shit," she muttered, eyes fluttering. "I've never..."

"I know." Candy's voice was lower now, steadier than Mae felt she had any right to be. "Me neither."

Mae laughed, shaky. "Don't sound like it."

"Fake it 'til you fuck me," Candy murmured, kissing the edge of Mae's jaw, and then her throat, slow and open-mouthed, leaving wet heat in her wake. "Ain't that the saying?"

Mae let her head drop back into the grass, trying not to writhe. "You're such a fuckin' show-off."

"I'm nervous as hell, actually." Candy slid her hand under Mae's tank top. Her palm was hot, shaking a little as it brushed Mae's ribs. "But I've thought about this too many times to stop now."

Mae bit her lip, hard. "You--? Wait. You've thought about it?"

Candy's hand stilled. "Mae. I nearly fall over 'cause of your goddamn collarbones."

That broke something wide open. Mae reached up, grabbed Candy by the sides of her face, and kissed her again--slower this time, deeper. More sure. They shifted together like puzzle pieces finally clicking.

Candy's hand moved higher. Hesitating. Fingers trembling just beneath Mae's nonexistent bra. "Can I...?"

Mae nodded, whispering, "Please," like it hurt.

When Candy's fingers finally touched her, Mae sucked in a breath. Candy didn't grope--she held her. Reverent. Gentle. Thumb grazing the soft, flat plane like it mattered.

Mae nearly cried. "You're not disappointed?"

Candy looked down at her like she was the goddamn sun. "I'm not here for titties, Mae. I'm here for you."

And that--that--made Mae whimper, pulling Candy down until their foreheads pressed together. "I wanna touch you too."

"You can." Candy's voice was thick now. "I--shit--I want you to."

Mae's hand crept under the green tank, found soft, warm weight. She cupped it in her palm, felt the shift of Candy's breath, the sharp intake as her thumb grazed the nipple. It hardened instantly, and Candy groaned, pressing down against Mae's thigh.

"Oh fuck," Candy breathed, voice breaking. "Mae, I'm--this is--Jesus."

Mae giggled, drunk on power and panic both. "You're kinda falling apart."

"I am apart. You did that."

Their hips were grinding now--clumsy, clothed, but more than enough. Candy's denim scraped Mae's thigh, and Mae rolled her hips up to meet her, both of them gasping, sweating, losing any sense of shame.

"God," Candy muttered, "if I come like this I'm never gonna live it down."

Mae laughed, breathless, "You better. Or I'm gonna feel real fucking cheated."

Candy kissed her again--messy and deep and full of promise. "Mae?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Mae's whole body stilled. A beat. Two.

Then she smiled, shaking, eyes glassy. "Good. 'Cause I've been in love with your dumb, hot ass since sophomore year."

Candy buried her face in Mae's neck. "We're so fucked."

"Yeah," Mae whispered. "But in the good way."

They came together a few minutes later, still half-dressed, still laughing, still talking. And maybe nothing had made sense before--but this did.

This made perfect, sweaty, ridiculous sense.

Mae reached for the hem of her tank top with fingers that wouldn't quite stop shaking.

She hesitated.

Not because she didn't want to--but because it mattered now. Because when she pulled that shirt off, there'd be no more pretending, no more hiding behind banter or half-drunk kisses in the dark. It wasn't a joke. Not now.

She peeled it off slowly anyway, cotton clinging to her damp skin. The straps caught on her shoulders, and she pushed them down one at a time, until the tank was a crumpled ghost beside her in the grass.

And then she was bare. Just skin and freckles and the smallest swell of chest, two tight little nipples flushed pink from heat and nerves. Her breath caught in her throat like it didn't know what to do now.

Candy didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't even blink.

She looked at Mae like she'd never seen her before. Like everything up until this moment had been shadows, outlines, pencil sketches--and now the colors had bled in, all at once, too vivid, too sharp.

"You're..." Candy breathed, swallowing hard. "Fuck."

Mae almost covered herself on instinct, arms twitching before she forced them still. "Say something."

"I am," Candy whispered. "You just don't know how loud it is."

Mae's lips parted, heart slamming so hard it hurt. Candy wasn't looking at her chest like it was something to be compared or judged. She was looking at Mae like she was a revelation. Like something sacred. Like--

"Is it weird that I wanna cry a little?" Candy said, barely managing a smile.

Mae nodded, eyes shining. "Not if I do first."

Candy leaned in--slow, reverent, mouth parted. Her hand brushed up Mae's side, fingers trembling, until she cupped the underside of one small breast and just held it there like she was learning the shape of it for the first time.

"You're mine," Candy said, so soft it was almost nothing. "Aren't you?"

Mae didn't look away. "Yeah. I've been yours."

Candy kissed her--lower this time, right on the slope of her chest, just below the nipple. Mae made a sound like she'd been cracked open, hips arching up without permission. Candy's mouth moved higher, a flick of tongue against sensitive skin, and Mae gasped like the world had shifted.

There was no undoing it. No pretending this hadn't happened.

Candy's lips brushed her nipple, warm and careful and fucking tender, and Mae broke--moaning, high and shocked, her hands flying to Candy's hair, her spine bowing off the grass.

"Jesus, Candy..."

Candy looked up, lips slick, eyes wild. "I'm gonna ruin you so good."

Mae pulled her back down, laughing and crying and shaking. "Please."

Candy stripped her shorts like they were nothing--no shame, no hesitation, just peeled them down those long, freckled legs and kicked them into the grass like the heat demanded it. Her panties came next, pale cotton damp and clinging, and Mae's breath hitched hard in her throat.

Jesus.

She'd seen Candy before, at sleepovers, in swimsuits, changing behind the barn after diving into the pond. But not like this. Not open. Not like she was offering something.

Candy leaned over her again, all warm skin and flushed cheeks, her thighs settling between Mae's. "You okay?" she asked, low and careful, like maybe she'd gone too fast.

Mae just stared, lips parted, hand already reaching for the curve of Candy's hip like she didn't trust it would stay if she didn't hold on. "You're unreal," she whispered. "I mean... I knew you were hot. But fuck."

Candy smirked, cocky and nervous at once. "You're not so bad yourself, flat-chest."

Mae slapped her arm, laughing, then bit her lip. "Come here."

And Candy did--mouth trailing lower this time, down Mae's stomach, over the soft, tense line where denim met skin. Mae lifted her hips before she even knew she was doing it, helping Candy tug her shorts down, her underwear with them. Her whole body felt like it was buzzing, skin humming like a live wire, nerves on fire.

When Candy's tongue finally touched her--just a soft, wet flick--Mae forgot how to breathe.

"Oh my God."

Candy grinned against her, licking slow, dragging it up the length of her slit before circling her clit with aching precision.

The world cracked.

Mae's back arched off the dirt. Her hands flew into Candy's hair, gripping like she'd fall out of orbit without the anchor. "How the fuck are you this good?" she gasped, thighs quaking. "You said you'd never--fuck, Candy--you liar."

"Mmm." Candy's tongue pressed harder, firmer now, rhythmic. She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her hands gripped Mae's thighs, thumbs digging in, keeping her spread and still and helpless to the way it felt.

The creek gurgled quietly nearby.

The house? Gone. The barn? Never existed. Alabama? Who the fuck was she?

It was just this now. Just her. Mae and the sky and the dirt and the sweat and Candy's mouth ruining her completely, slow and patient like she wanted to break her best friend open and live inside the wreckage.

Mae moaned, wild, eyes slammed shut. "I can't--Candy--I'm--"

Candy didn't stop.

Didn't slow.

Just pushed deeper, tongue curling, pressure building until Mae screamed--not loud, but real, raw, from the bottom of her spine to the tips of her toes. Her whole body seized like it had forgotten how to exist outside of this moment. And when she came, she didn't just fall apart.

She shattered.

When Candy finally kissed her way back up, lips slick, grin smug, Mae was still shaking. Eyes glassy, lips swollen, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a prayer.

Candy tucked hair behind Mae's ear. "Still think I'm faking it?"

Mae laughed through tears. "No," she whispered. "You're the realest fucking thing I've ever known."

Mae was shaking again--but not from fear. Not entirely. It was awe, it was the weight of this, it was Candy lying back in the grass, thighs parted, skin flushed, hair wild, nipples still hard from earlier. Her tank top was shoved up around her collarbones, her freckles everywhere, and between her legs--god. Mae stared.

Red hair, soaked through. Slick and glistening like heat had melted her. The soft folds parted slightly, wet and open, a flush of pink lost in curls the color of fire and trouble and first times.

Mae licked her lips, frozen between reverence and ache. "Candy..."

Candy looked down, eyes dark with something older than eighteen, older than both of them. "You don't have to."

"I want to," Mae breathed. "That's the problem."

She crawled forward, heart a thunderclap, lips parted like maybe she'd forget how to breathe once she started. Her hands settled on Candy's thighs, thumbs stroking upward, feeling the tremble there. Candy was trying not to squirm, but her whole body was singing--needing.

Mae kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, slow and careful. Candy exhaled like it was killing her. "Mae..."

"There's only one first time," Mae said, lips brushing so close Candy shuddered. "I wanna get it right."

Candy's hand tangled in Mae's hair. "Just be with me."

So Mae let go. She leaned in, mouth hovering over the heart of her. The smell was sharp, sweet, real--sex and summer and the truth between them, finally exposed.

Her first kiss was soft. Uncertain. A press of lips to wet heat. Then another. And when Candy moaned--really moaned--Mae parted her lips and let her tongue trace upward, slow and shaky but wanting.

"Oh--fuck." Candy's back arched. Her hips twitched, thighs squeezing Mae's shoulders as her hand tightened in that blonde hair. "Mae, that's--oh my God."

Mae looked up just long enough to say, "Good?" with a crooked little grin.

Candy laughed like she might cry. "Keep going or I'll die."

So she did.

Mae explored, slow at first--tasting, licking, figuring out what made Candy gasp and twist and curse. And then faster, more sure, guided by instinct and desperation and the taste of her best friend's slick arousal coating her tongue.

Candy writhed.

Mae moaned into her, helpless and high on the mess she was making.

When Candy came--loud, sobbing her name, legs locking around her like a vice--Mae held her through it, mouth still moving, wanting to ride it out until every last tremble stopped.

And then silence.

Just the creek. Just the heat.

Mae lifted her head, face flushed, mouth glistening. She looked up like she'd seen God and tasted her.

Candy's eyes were glassy. Her voice was ruined. "You got it right," she whispered.

Mae laid beside her, breathless. "Yeah," she said, smiling slow. "I fucking did."

The air hadn't cooled a damn degree, but it felt different now. Softer. Like the world had taken a long breath and held it for them.

Candy lay back in the grass for a minute longer, legs still splayed, chest still rising and falling like the whole thing might've just been a dream that set her on fire. Her hair was a mess. Her thighs were sticky. Her freckles looked brighter in the sun, like they'd been turned up a notch by sex and sweat and the raw burn of being wanted--really wanted.

Mae sat up slow, brushing grass from her elbows, dirt smudged on her hip. Her tank top was inside-out, half tangled with a bra she hadn't even bothered putting on. She smiled down at it, then looked at Candy and laughed--giddy, breathless, still riding something that had nothing to do with gravity.

"That was..." she started.

Candy gave her a lazy grin. "Yeah."

"Like, actually..."

"I know."

They giggled then, both of them--dumb, girlish, punch-drunk laughter that didn't stop even as they started grabbing for their clothes. Mae held her panties in her hand for a second, turning them over, pink cotton gone darker with slick. "Well," she muttered, smirking, "guess these are done for."

Candy bit her lip. "Keep 'em. Trophy."

"You freak."

Candy just winked.

Mae pulled her shorts on, hips wriggling, the denim sticking in places it hadn't stuck before. She hissed, laughing. "Goddamn, I'm sore."

Candy rolled onto her side, watching her. Still naked, still glowing like she'd swallowed the sun. "Good. You should be."

Mae flushed, looking away but not really meaning it. She tugged her tank top on, still bare underneath. When she turned around, Candy was finally slipping her panties back on--slow, deliberate, like she wanted Mae to watch.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" Mae asked.

Candy's smile turned sly. "Nope."

And then she stood, pulling her shorts up with a little hop, then letting her top fall back over her chest. Her nipples were still hard beneath the fabric, but she didn't hide them. Didn't care.

They looked at each other then--really looked.

Not as friends. Not as girls who'd almost kissed once, or who used to sleep in the same bed during thunderstorms. But as something else now.

Something claimed.

Candy stepped close, just enough that their bare legs brushed. "You're mine now, you know that?"