School's Out: The Tutor Redux

Adria sits on the couch with her textbook open, staring at the same equation for twenty minutes. When Alina walks in the tension breaks. Adria smiles—she needed the break. "Where are you on the chapter?" Alina asks, dropping her bag. Adria shrugs. The pages haven’t moved. Alina spots the paperback on the coffee table, spine cracked, cover showing two women tangled. She laughs. "Maybe if you weren’t thinking about boys—" Adria bites her lip. "I don’t think about boys that way." Alina’s hand slides up Adria’s bare thigh. "I didn’t know." "Nobody does," Adria answers. "It isn’t anyone’s business." Alina nods, thumb tracing slow circles. "Then it’s ours." She leans in. Their mouths meet once, careful. The next kiss is harder. Fingers hook into waistbands; shirts lift. Bras fall. Skin meets skin and every thought of x and y slips away. They sink into the cushions, legs parting, tongues meeting again, clothes scattering on the rug. Algebra waits.