Work was tough for me the next day. I couldn’t stop thinking about Stephanie and Emmy, and wondering just what the heck I was doing. On the one hand, what I had had with Emmy was exactly what I wanted. We’d been a couple, and acted like it. We held hands when we walked down the street, we kissed each other without worrying who saw us, and we woke up together in the same bed every morning. It just felt right, and I really, really missed all that.

With Stephanie, we had to hide our relationship. Our week in Northern California during my V Ball camp at Stanford had been wonderful because when we went out in the evenings we could be open about things out in public, never worrying about somebody we knew seeing us, but here at home it was a different story. I understood why Stephanie wanted to keep us secret but that didn’t mean I was happy about it. Keeping things hidden also severely limited our together time, and that really sucked.

Still, it wasn’t as if I really had a choice in the matter. Stephanie was here, and Emmy was gone, never to be seen again. Even wishing I had Emmy back made me feel guilty, as if somehow just thinking about Emmy was making me unfaithful to Steph. It was all screwed up, and I didn’t know what to do.

I don’t want to give the impression I was unhappy with Stephanie. On the contrary- she was a great girlfriend, and we had a wonderful time together.We were compatible in very many ways, and just being with Steph was a very comfortable experience. I enjoyed just spending time with her, and she had a great time with me. On the occasions we could get out of Fallbrook she wasn’t shy about public displays of affection, either. It gave me an incentive to get to know more of San Diego, I can tell you. Figuring that we would be unlikely to run into anyone we’d know we did all our mall-hopping down there instead of in Escondido where most kids we knew went. When we went to movies (which was quite often) we went down to San Diego area theaters, but avoided the big one with the IMAX screen where Emmy and I got videoed way back when.

We also found ourselves to be very well-suited to each other in intimate ways, too. Sex was new to Steph, but it turned out that the things I liked, she liked, too. We could get wild and passionate or just kiss and cuddle, and we both felt that it was all good.

Actually, Steph’s lack of experience caused her a bit of insecurity at times. I flatly refused to talk about the sex life that Emmy and I had shared, telling Steph that it had no bearing on our relationship at all. She seemed to accept that, but I know she still felt unsure of herself at times.

One of those times happened on an afternoon we had together, knowing that Steph’s mom wasn’t coming home until late. I was lying on top of the sheets on my belly, feeling nice and tingly all over. Steph was on her side, propped up on her elbow. She was gently stroking along the length of my back, languidly caressing my bare skin.

“Do I make you happy?” Steph asked.

“Very happy,” I responded. “If I could purr like a cat I would, that’s for sure.”

“As happy as Emmy did?”

“Oh, Steph,” I groaned. “It doesn’t matter what Emmy did or didn’t do. I’m with you now, not her.”

“I know, but I just can’t help it,” she sighed. “I just… well, she was, like, so perfect, you know?”

“She wasn’t perfect, Steph. Nobody is,” I replied, sitting up to look her straight in the eyes to make my point.

“Name one way Emmy wasn’t perfect,” challenged Stephanie.

“I shouldn’t tell you this, because it’s kinda private,” I admitted after thinking about it for a moment, “but Emmy was really concerned with projecting that image of perfection. In fact…” I trailed off, unsure if I should even be telling this to Steph.

“What?” she demanded, now that I’d gotten her curiosity going.

“Don’t tell this to anyone, all right?”

“I won’t,” Stephanie promised, her eyes wide with anticipation of some sort of bombshell.

“Well, you know how, uh, slender Emmy was, right?” I asked. When Stephanie nodded, I continued. “Well, she’s too lean to grow any breasts at all, so when she was fifteen she got a set of fake ones.”

“Emmy has implants?” asked Stephanie, astonished. “Seriously?” When I nodded my head yes, seriously, she looked down at her own bare chest. “Wow,” she breathed. “I mean, it’s not like mine are anything great or anything, but at least I’ve got a pair.”

“I love your boobs, Steph. They’re perfect on you,” I assured her.

“Seriously? You’re not just saying that?”

“No, I’m serious. But I think you’re missing my point,” I added. “Emmy got breast implants at fifteen years old because she wanted to look as perfect as she possibly could. She wasn’t like the rest of us, wondering when we were going to grow a set, and then worrying if they were too small, too big, or whatever. She just spent the money to get what she wanted, because she felt it was necessary,” I explained.

“What do you mean ‘necessary’?” Stephanie asked.

“Well, she had to be perfect, so she needed to get perfect boobs, you know? ‘Cause there wasn’t going to be any part of her that was less than perfect.”

“When you put it that way, it does seem kinda sad,” Stephanie agreed.

“Well, yeah, but is also shows that she just wasn’t going to be satisfied with whatever life bestowed upon her, too,” I said, defending Emmy. I didn’t want Steph to pity her, or anything like that. “She was going to fix Mother Nature’s mistake in not giving her a perfect set.”

“Yeah, I guess,” admitted Steph, thinking about it for a bit. Then, getting back to her original train of thought, she asked, “Well, can you tell me about Chris, then? You guys did do it, right?”

Resigned, I agreed. “Yeah, I guess we can talk about Chris. And yeah, we did, you know, have sex.”

“So, what was it like, having sex with a guy?” Steph persisted.

“I only ever had sex with just Chris, so I obviously can’t say what it’s like in general, but with him, it was never like this.”

“What do you mean?” Stephanie wondered.

“Well, I mean, just nice and, I don’t know, relaxing like this,” I tried to explain. “We would never have just been lying here, him touching me like you’re doing.”

“He didn’t touch you?” asked Stephanie, baffled.

“Oh, yeah, he did, every chance he got,” I said. “But with Chris, it was more, intentional, I guess, if that makes any sense. With you, you’re touching me right now just to give me attention, just to show me that you care, right?” I asked, turning to face her. Steph nodded, so I continued. “With Chris, he would touch me to signal his intentions- that he wanted to feel my body, or get me worked up to go farther. Do you see the difference?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Stephanie conceded. “So you’re saying it was all about him, not you?”

“No, that’s not it, really. I mean, I liked it when he touched me. It made me feel wanted, desired, I guess. It felt good to know that this hot guy thought I was sexually attractive, you know?”

“I find you sexually attractive,” Stephanie said, her voice husky. “Very, very attractive.” With that, she draped herself across me, making her intentions very clear.

Later that evening, while relaxing on the sofa and watching The Big Lebowski, Stephanie asked about Chris again. “Why did you guys break up? It seemed like you two were really good for each other last year. I mean…” she said, unsure where to go with it.

“Chris wanted to join the Marines right after graduation,” I answered. “I told him that if he did it was all over between us.” I realized when I said it that it sounded cold, but it was the truth.

“Why? I mean, why didn’t you want him to join the Marines? What’s wrong with that?” Stephanie asked. Fallbrook has always been a very military-oriented town, sitting as it is at the eastern gate to one of the biggest Marine bases in the country. Plenty of kids go right from Fallbrook High straight into the Marines, and always have.

“It’s kinda pathetic of me, I guess,” I admitted. “But I told him there was no way I was gonna lose two men in my life that way.”

“Oh-” Stephanie’s eyes widened with understanding. “Like your dad…”

“Yeah,” I agreed, choking up a bit. “Losing him when I was just ten years old was bad enough. Ten years is way too short a time, and a lot of that time he wasn’t even home. He was deployed a lot of the time.” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice. “That was no kind of life for his family. I mean, Tiffany never once ever got to even meet him. Can you imagine that? The only way she knows her own father is through photos, and stories me and Mom tell.”

“Oh, babe,” Steph sighed, sitting up and wrapping me in her arms. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She did her best to kiss away my tears but the sensation only reminded me of Emmy, which made me cry even harder. Even worse, I couldn’t tell my own girlfriend that I wasn’t just crying for my dad, but also for the girl I used to hold in my arms before she came along. The guilt I felt at being emotionally unfaithful dogpiled on the feelings of loss and reduced me to a complete wreck. I don’t know how long I sat there on the sofa in Stephanie’s living room bawling my eyes out, but it seemed like forever.

I did eventually stop, though. Looking at Steph, who had been doing her best to console me, I saw tears in her eyes as well. “Why were you crying?" I asked, sniffling as I rubbed my eyes.

“Babe, I hate to see you like this. I hate myself for making you cry,” she answered, sounding about as miserable as I felt.

“No, it wasn’t you,” I said as I pulled her tight into my arms. “You’ve never done anything to ever make me unhappy. Not ever.”

Stephanie wasn’t able to get the time off work for my second training camp, so I had to go to Stanford alone. I took the train up the coast, which was both really long and boring and also very beautiful and captivating.

Thankfully nobody sat next to me so I could lose myself in my own thoughts. I was lonely and wished Stephanie could have come with me, but I also kept wishing Emmy could be there to see the California coast we were passing. God, I was so messed up.

During the week I made a point of trying to get to know my new teammates better. Last camp I’d spent all my free time with Steph, so this time I accepted every social invite that came my way. Most of the girls were nice and I could get along O.K. with the rest so I didn’t see any conflicts in my future. I also really poured myself into the workouts, trying to impress Coach Burke. Sure, I wanted to start in the first game of the season, but it was also very important to justify the scholarship that he’d gone out on a limb and arranged for me.

I think it worked, because the last day of workouts Sammy (the team’s trainer) told me that she talked to Coach Burke about me and she’d said that he was very impressed.

Feeling really positive, I boarded the train to go back south determined to work really hard on the exercises Sammy had worked up for me. I was going to come back in a few weeks ready to kick some serious ass.

I was also determined to work on my relationship with Steph when I got back home. Even though Stephanie and I had texted like crazy and talked every night while I was in Palo Alto, I’d still felt lonely. Thinking of Stephanie and her amazing body helped (and the pictures she texted me to keep me warm at night were very well received) but actually having somebody to hold in my arms was far, far better. I was ready to come back to Fallbrook and try to make what I had with Steph as good as it could be.

However, once back in Fallbrook I found myself resenting having to keep things hidden more and more. I knew that I only had a few more weeks before I had to return to Stanford to start school and I just didn’t want to feel as if our relationship were something that needed to be hidden.

I tried to talk to Stephanie about it but it didn’t go too well. “Steph?” I asked as we lay on her bed one warm afternoon, feeling exhausted and satisfied. I was lying on my back and Stephanie was lightly running her hand up and down my belly. I looked up and saw her thoughtful expression. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking how good I feel right now, and how nice this is,” she sighed. “I’m also thinking that this has been a very good summer, and I wish it could be like this forever.”

“When do you think you’ll be ready to tell your mom about us?” I wanted to know.

“Oh, god. I don’t know,” Steph groaned at the thought, flopping onto her back. “I’m just not sure how she’ll take it, you know? I mean, she’s generally pretty, like, understanding, but it might be a really different story if it’s her daughter we’re talking about. And Dad? The less he has to know, the better.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “It’s just, well, I hate this hiding, you know? It really sucks.”

“I know it’s bothering you, but I just can’t yet. Soon, baby. Soon.” Her assurances didn’t do much to help my feelings on the subject, but there was no way I was going to push the issue. A certain part of me (a part of me that I’m ashamed to admit to) thought that we only had a few more weeks together anyway, so what did it matter? I tried to bury those thoughts and enjoy what time we could spend together.

“What’s this?” Stephanie asked, pulling something shiny out of my closet one afternoon.

“What? Oh, that,” I said, seeing what she had in her hands. “That’s a cocktail dress Emmy’s mom bought me for a party they invited me to.”

Looking at the label, Stephanie said “It’s Herve Leger! O.M.G!” Yes, she actually used the initials rather than the words. “How much did this cost?” she asked, holding it against herself, maybe to see if it would fit her.

“Umm, I think it was about sixteen hundred,” I admitted.

“And Emmy’s mom just bought it for you? Just like that?” Steph demanded, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t have anything to wear to the party, so she took Emmy and me shopping.” Then, although I didn’t want to seem as if I were bragging, I added “She bought me shoes, a little purse, and some jewelry to go with it, too.”

Stephanie rooted around in my closet until she came up with the matching gold high heels. “These super hot Jimmy Choo sandals? Leah, these are like, five hundred bucks!”

“I think they were seven hundred,” I said, sheepishly.

“I can’t believe she spent all this money for an outfit for you for just a party,” Stephanie said.

“Well, the party was a big deal,” I answered, choosing to not be insulted by Steph’s thoughtless remark. “Emmy’s parents really wanted me there for some reason, and it was the kind of party where everybody was super rich and dressed sharp, so I needed an outfit appropriate for the occasion.” Yeah, I was a little bit defensive, but who wouldn’t have been?

“So Emmy’s mom took you shopping, just like that?”

“Yeah, well, it sounds good when you say it like that, but it actually was kinda humiliating.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was a couple of things. I mean, first off, Emmy’s mom basically decided what I was going to wear. I didn’t get much say in it- she just picked out stuff she thought would look good on me, and that was it.”

Eyes wide, Steph agreed. “It’s, like, bad enough when your own mom buys clothes for you, but somebody else’s mom? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “I mean, I can’t complain too much, because it did look real good on me, but still…” I trailed off, remembering. “The second part, and this was worse, was that there was this old lady that worked there at Saks that chose a bra for me and actually fitted me- and by that I mean she actually put the different bras on me and checked to see if they fit right.”

“Like, on your naked boobs?”

“Exactly like that. Again, I can’t complain too much because the bra she picked for me fits great and makes my girls look fantastic, but I can’t say it was any kind of fun.”

“And all this was for a party? She spent all that money so you could go to a party?”

“Well, it was a big deal, and it was thrown by a business associate of Emmy’s dad. Emmy’s parents wanted to make a good showing, and I guess they thought having me there would somehow work in their favor.”

“So what was the party like? Where was it held?” Stephanie asked.

“It was O.K. I guess. I mean, it was kinda cool to go to a real exclusive Vegas nightclub-”

“Las Vegas? The party was in Las Vegas?” demanded Steph. “Don’t tell me- you rode to Las Vegas in a stretch limo, right?” she asked, rolling her eyes at the imagined extravagance.

“Yeah, it was at the hotel on the strip that has the fountains, you know the one? And no, we didn’t ride in a stretch limo all the way there. Just from the airport to the hotel,” I added to tease her.

“Airport? You flew?”

“In. A. Private. Jet.” I answered, emphasizing every word. I was giving up on not boasting. Seeing the reaction my story was getting from Stephanie was making my day.

“No way,” she replied, suddenly doubting my story.

“Check this out,” I said and opened my laptop, bringing up the folder that had the photos from that day. “Look, here I am when we were getting ready, after the stylist was done with me.”

Stephanie looked at the picture, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Whoa. You look like some kind of supermodel, Leah. God, you’re so hot.” Then turning to face me, she asked “Wear it for me, please? I want to see you in that dress, with those shoes on. Please?” she begged.

“Maybe later. But look at this. This is the Lascaux’s plane,” I said, showing her another picture on the screen.

“I can’t freaking believe it. You went on a private jet to a party at a nightclub in Vegas.” Stephanie was completely blown away. “I wish I could have gone,” she added wistfully.

“Honestly, the party itself wasn’t that great. Drunk old guys kept hitting on me, and one guy even offered me money to go back to his room with him. I told him to go to hell, but he just wouldn’t take a hint.”

“Creepy,” Steph said, thinking about getting pawed by some random guy. Then her curiosity got the better of her and she asked “The guy who offered you money- what did he look like?”

“Why do you want to know?” I asked, teasing her again.

“Just wondering what kind of guy would do that,” she replied, a bit embarrassed.

“Well, honestly, I think part of what was going on is that it was Vegas, right? I think a lot of the guys thought I was a showgirl. But if you want to see what that guy looked like, I can show you right now.” I turned back to my computer and Googled the band that had that big party hit from the summer before, the one about living the champagne life. “This is the guy.”

“No freaking way…” breathed Stephanie. “No freaking way.”

“Way!” I replied, and she got the Wayne’s World reference immediately.

“Party on, Leah!” she laughed, doing that thing with her hand.

“You really want to see me in that dress?” I asked. When Steph nodded, wide eyed at the thought, I told her “I might need some help.”

“With the dress?” she asked.

“And maybe with the bra, too,” I replied, trying to make my voice as sultry as possible.

Immediately liking where I was going with this, Steph nodded her agreement. “I’ll help you with the panties, too.”

“No need,” I responded, giving her as sexy a look as I could manage. “I won’t be wearing any.”