You felt the same way Nora did.

God, that was a weird thought. Nora had experienced... feelings for many girls throughout her seventeen years, but she never expected them to be reciprocated.

She'd tried men too, lost her virginity to one. Not her thing- at all.

Their hands didn't have the right callouses, they touched too harshly, they grabbed and kneaded instead of tracing and rubbing.

They tasted wrong, too. Boys tasted too harsh, too much like the hate they had been bred to feel for women.

Girls were better, she had decided, even if it wasn't the norm.

Nora would have to deal with the fact that she would never be able to take a girlfriend home as a girlfriend, that she could never share the story of her favourite kiss.

But she could have a "friend" over for a "sleepover."

So, that's what she was doing.

You were sitting comfortably in Nora's lap, leaning to play the guitar she cherished so much.

The dark-haired girl's chin was resting on your shoulder as she guided your clumsy hands in learning chords.

You weren't much good, but she was patient, always offering praise when you played the right note or chord that was punctuated with a kiss to the space right below your ear.

"Good, good. You're getting the hang of it." Nora praised gently pressing a line of kisses from your shoulder to your temple.

You giggled at the kisses,squirming in her lap gently as she pressed her face into your neck in the interest of trying to memorize your scent.

Her own musk mingled with your scent, but if she ignored that and focused closer she could smell vanilla, coconut, and motor oil; your father was a mechanic and you liked to help him.