Oscara’s fascination with those books began when we were twelve. I thought it was just a phase: in the past, she had often read similar books for a while, then moved on to some other genre.

However, after a year, I had to consider that it was maybe not a phase.

While she had told me that relationships between women were common, and reminded me of that several times, I had no way to know if she was telling the truth. Now, I had a need to verify that. I thought of trying to use a computer, but, honestly, I couldn’t, what was it, loggen? Yes, I couldn’t loggen to the school computers without help.

That seemed far too annoying, so I asked my mother instead.

It was after school and she was taking a break from work to make tea. She looked at me, not exactly upset, but perhaps confused. “Sorry, sweetie, what did you say?”

“Is it normal for girls to like girls?”

Her expression softened and she even smiled at me—my mother never smiled at me! I thought I must have asked something stupidly obvious.

“Oh sweetie, if you like girls, that’s perfectly fine. As long as you’re happy, me and your daddy don’t mind who you like.”

So it was true. The first part, that was obviously the general “you”, and the second part—she made it sound like they didn’t care which man I married. Well, they probably didn’t, so long as someone took me off their hands.

Then my mother surprised me, strangely insightful. “Is it Osca?”

I looked at her wide-eyed, which made her smile again. “How do you know?” I asked, wondering if Oscara maybe left one of those books here.

Ever the master of secrets, my mother avoided answering me directly. “If it’s Osca, you have our blessing—she takes such good care of you.”

“Thanks?” I said, unsure what to make of that.

Only adding to my confusion, my mother teared up and muttered, “Oh, my baby’s growing up.”

Well, that was the first time my mother indirectly admitted she loved Oscara more than me.

So, now I knew, I was actually rather curious why Oscara liked those books so much. I could’ve looked in the school library for one of the ones she had read, but again, that was too much effort—not to mention I couldn’t remember any of the titles.

Thus I went to the source.

“God, do we really have to find her? All she does is read,” Fen said.

Ayana nodded. “Yeah, can’t we, like, go watch the boys play basketball? I heard Dem’s going today.”

I rolled my eyes. They were good friends, but also teenage girls. “You go perv on them, but I gotta chat with Oscara, ’kay?”

They giggled at me. “Stop it,” Fen said.

“You stop it,” I said, waving her off. “I’m not the one staring at boys’ butts.”

“Hey—I stare at their faces sometimes,” Ayana said.

We held on for all of a second before bursting into laughter. “Have fun. I’ll see ya for… chemistry?”

“Physics,” they said together.

“It’s all the same.”

So I went in search of her, which wasn’t really a difficult thing to do since she spent every break in the library (apart from when she was eating). At the far end of the library, curled up on the big seats they had—or rather, we were just small—she sat, book in hand. The midmorning light spilled from behind her, somewhat silhouetting her profile, no doubt a conscious choice so that it lit her book. Short as her hair was, her fringe was a bit messy, some longer strands hanging over her eyes; surely that must have annoyed her.

Well, it certainly annoyed me and, after I quietly sat beside her, I reached over to brush those strands out the way. How still she was, anyone would have thought she didn’t notice, but I noticed her little smile.

Not for the first time, I wondered if she put up with that annoyance just for the times I would come visit her.

Polite as I was, I left her to read until she felt like she had reached a suitable point to pause, which took nearly a minute. She neatly slotted in a bookmark, old and tattered, then rested the book on her lap before finally turning to me, still wearing that little smile.

“Do you want something?” she asked.

In our language, I said, “Is that one of those books you like?”

“Lesbian romance? Yeah, it is.”

Lesbian—our language didn’t have a word like that, nor for men either. “I want to read it when you are finished.”

Her emotions always showed so clearly, despite what others said. The way her eyes widened, lips parted, obviously surprised, then she returned to that small smile. “This one’s… can I give you another one?”

“Honestly, I won’t bother to memorise the title, so you could give me any book—I just ask it is a… lesbian romance,” I said.

She quickly nodded, some strands of hair falling loose again. I let out a sigh and tidied her fringe.

It was two days later that I received a book from her. To my surprise, it didn’t come from the library, instead a personal book, but it was surprisingly well read, apparently not bought new. The title read: “THE DUKE’S DAUGHTER’S DESIRES,” and the cover had a pair of ladies picnicking by a lake.

I was not exactly a good reader. Of course, if it was written in our language, that would be different. But that was not the case and I hadn’t read more than I had to over my years here.

So it took a lot of effort, especially with how many weird words there were. It was all “shall” and “milady” and “mansion”. Seriously, why did they not just say “house”? There were even words not in the dictionary I had for English class, so I wrote them down to ask Oscara about—words like “quim”—but a teacher confiscated the note and gave me detention without even telling me why.

It also just didn’t make sense at times. The duke’s daughter and her companion were in her room and doing something—I couldn’t understand what exactly, but I thought tickling each other—when she suddenly said she was “coming”, but no one knocked on the door and she didn’t go check? And she praised her companion for having a beautiful flower, but never said what kind it was. All I did learn was that, apparently, its nectar was sweet.

Well, it took me a week to finish and I still didn’t understand what Oscara liked about those kinds of stories. That is, I liked how close friends they were, thought it would be wonderful to have someone like that, but it seemed to me that there was no need for the kissing and there was no reason they couldn’t stay friends after marrying men. If anything, that would have been better as their children could have been friends too.

When I gave Oscara back the book, I was ready to tell her what I thought of it, but she put me off by giving me another book! “I don’t want to read it,” I said.

She smiled at me and said, “I think you’ll like this one.”

Although I scowled, I accepted it, my thinking that I truly wanted to know what made the genre so addictive for her to read nothing else. This one wasn’t so difficult to read, about a pair of women working together in the city who were at first irritated and displeased by the other, then gradually began to like each other.

If that was the end, then she was certainly right in thinking I would like it. However, they liked each other enough to kiss, and then did… very strange things to each other.

Reading that part made me feel uncomfortable for a reason I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t that I disliked it exactly, just that my heart pounded and it was like I wasn’t breathing enough, head feeling light. A bit unpleasant, but something I could push through.

Well, I wanted to tell her that, but, when I handed back the book, she pulled out another. “I think you’ll like this one.”

Book after book, she said that and so I read it, usually agreeing with her. Sometimes, the mood took me and I read one over the weekend, other times it took me a month to get through one. Regardless, she always had another book ready.

“I think you’ll like this one.”

After a year of that, those uncomfortable parts became some of my favourites. The strange way I felt reading them became stronger, but it also felt good in a way I couldn’t describe, sort of like I was a bit drunk and scared, which became a mild exhilaration.

Well, I tried asking Oscara if she ever felt like that and if that was why she liked those books, but she only smiled and said, “I’ll tell you when we’re older.” As if we weren’t already more like thirty-something than fourteen.

While that continued, there was an incident one day.

No one really bullied Oscara. She kept to herself and used her breaks to read and everyone was fine to leave her to it. I wasn’t in all her classes—they separated us based on “ability” and I wasn’t going to put more work in when my reward would be harder work—but she didn’t seem to have friends, just a few people who she sometimes helped with homework in the library.

Of course, I was her friend and, as such, my friends saw more of her than most others. They were… maybe jealous, I couldn’t say. All I know is that, one day, I walked into class by myself, a bit late as I had needed to powder my nose, and I saw a most boorish sight.

Ayana and Fen were by Oscara’s desk, Fen holding a rather tattered book. “Ew, what, are you a lez or something?” Ayana said.

Oscara wasn’t smiling. Her face was blank, gaze set to the far edge of her desk, hands neatly folded on front edge.

It filled me with emotion, but I couldn’t say what kind. There wasn’t the heat of anger or the pang of guilt or the hesitation of cowardice. No, I simply felt my mind empty as a pressure forced out any possibility of thought, leaving me to act on impulse.

So I strode over and snatched the book from Fen and gently placed it on the table. Oscara looked up at that moment, our eyes meeting. Her lips curved into that little smile I always saw her with and that released the pressure inside me, my chest feeling freer, heart relaxing.

“Cl-clara, we were—” Ayana said.

I wanted to tell her clearly that Oscara was my friend and to not disturb her or pester her unnecessarily. So I said in their language, “She’s mine, leave her alone.”

Ayana and Fen both froze up with their mouths open. A bit of an extreme reaction, but I didn’t care so long as they understood. Turning back to Oscara, her smile looked… wider.

From then on, things changed, albeit not much. Oscara liked to hold my hand when we walked together or if we sat together outside of class, and she sometimes greeted me with a kiss on my cheek. For that dreadful class where we had to dress like young boys and act like it too, running around for whatever reason the teacher gave, we sometimes had to pair up; I would take turns with Fen and Ayana before, sometimes someone else, but now I always ended up with Oscara.

I wasn’t stupid. After reading so many of those books, of course I knew that she was deepening our friendship. Well, I didn’t mind, our closeness already unusual because of our previous lives. It was also nice to know I meant so much to her.

Besides, just because she did that, didn’t mean she wanted to marry me.