A Girl Named Mitch Ch. 01

Hello everyone! As promised, here is Mitch and Cindy's story. It will be published in four parts. Everything is written and edited, and I'll try to submit the next part within a few days of seeing the previous one successfully published. It's a slow burn romance story, so if your looking for a quick hitter you'd do better elsewhere. As always all characters are over 18. Enjoy!

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A Girl named Mitch

Chapter 1

Start of fall semester, 2009, UGA, Athens, Georgia.

I was so late.

The sound of my sneakers hitting the sidewalk echoed in my ears, my backpack bouncing against my shoulders as I ran. It's a good thing I was in shape.

Why did this place have to be so freaking big? I mean sure, it sounded great. After growing up in a little town and going to a tiny high school, the University of Georgia had seemed like such a grand adventure.

Finally Miller Hall loomed in front of me, four intimidating stories of red brick. This one single building was at least three times the size of my high school, with two more floors.

I pushed open the doors. I needed to find room 207, and quickly. I took the stairs two at a time. It had to be on the second floor, right?

As I crested the stairs a couple of guys were standing next to a bulletin board. I turned on my smile and tossed my sandy blonde hair. It got the effect it usually did, and I instantly had their attention.

"Boys, do y'all know where 207 is?" I let a little Vivian Leigh slide into my normal Georgia drawl.

"Uh, sure. It's that way." The taller one pointed to my left.

One more brilliant flash of my pearly whites. "Y'all are so sweet." I took off down the hall, knowing their eyes were on me as I did. I giggled to myself as I reached the door. Apparently my charms weren't only good in small towns. They definitely had their uses.

My small triumph was wiped from my mind as I walked into the huge, amphitheatre style classroom. The thing could seat two hundred and fifty if it could hold a dozen, and it was at least half full. My graduating class had thirty-six kids. There were at least three times that many in this single room.

I took a deep breath and climbed up into the fourth row, locating three empty seats. I took the one in the middle. The differences from what I'd known before didn't end with the size of the room. On my left was a young man of East Asian descent, and on my right was a pretty Muslim girl wearing a head scarf. The sum total of our diversity back at Marin High School had been five African-American students. Before today I'd actually felt very cosmopolitan because one of them had been my good friend Tiwana, who'd played with me on our tennis team. I was quickly realizing I had no idea what true diversity looked like.

As I sat down I smiled at the girl, and she smiled back. I pulled out the little fold-away desk and opened my notebook as the professor entered the room. Tall and thin faced, he introduced himself in a nasal Eastern European brogue.

"Welcome to Econ 101; I'm Dr. Kovacevic. We will be starting with a basic review of the laws of supply and demand, which I assume you are familiar with."

He began to write on the board, and I felt my spirit start to rise to the challenge. I wasn't Cindy Spencer, valedictorian and tennis stand-out here. Here I was just student #410137012. For now, at least.

***

I knocked on Coach Holiday's door, my heart tripping along a little faster than normal.

"Come in!"

I opened the door and stepped inside the office. "Hi, Coach. You wanted to see me? Cindy Spencer?"

The dark haired woman on the other side of the desk laughed. God, I felt so country around her. "Cindy, I know who you are. I recruited you, didn't I?"

I blushed. "Sorry, I just, I didn't know."

"It's fine. Have a seat."

I obeyed, forcing myself to relax.

"I just wanted to check in, make sure you're adjusting okay. I don't have any questions about your academic ability, of course, but this place can be overwhelming to anyone."

"Well, I think I know where all my classes are now. And I really appreciate you giving me the chance to walk on this spring. I won't let you down."

"Oh, I know." She leaned across the desk. "Look, I've seen you play, you're going to be fine. And the only reason you're 'walking on' is because with your grades and test scores I was able to get you an academic full ride." She sighed and shuffled some papers at her desk. "What can I say? We're not the football team. Our resources are limited."

We talked for a while, and I felt better by the minute. This was the first time I'd actually met the coach in person, although I'd skyped her with her a few times. To be honest I'd been stunned when Georgia had called. I mean, I hadn't lost a competitive match since I was a Freshman, but we were a small school playing other small schools. We'd won the 2A championships two years running, but I'd seen Carrie Mitchell play in the 8A finals, and she was something. I don't know if I was on her level, but I'd love to find out. She'd had multiple division one offers, I'm sure.

Coach closed my folder. "Thanks for coming by. If you need anything, tutoring, issues with school, just let me know."

"I will. Thanks, Coach."

"Obviously we can't have official practices until next semester, but I do want my incoming freshmen to meet with the strength and conditioning coach now, so we can hit the ground running in January. It'll also give you a chance to meet the other freshmen recruits."

"Sure, just let me know where and when."

"Four o'clock, Thursday at the sports complex. I'll send you an email with everything."

***

I was fifteen minutes early to the meeting, but I still wasn't the first one there. I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I walked in and saw Carrie Mitchell sitting there alone.

She stood up and smiled, holding out her hand. "Hi! Carrie Mitchell."

I shook her hand, and she did have quite a grip. "Cindy Spencer. Hello."

A look of recognition passed over her face. "Marin High, right?"

"Yeah, how did you...?"

"I heard about your unbeaten streak, and I made sure I got to see your match at the finals. You're really good."

"Not as good as you."

She blushed a little. "Well, I'm glad we're on the same team now."

I took a seat. "So what are you majoring in?"

"Honestly I'm not sure yet, but I'm leaning towards Kinesiology. How 'bout you?"

"Economics and banking."

Carrie grimaced. "Wow, that sounds like a lot of math."

"Yeah, well, I was always good at math."

"That makes one of us."

We chatted for a few more minutes before anyone else arrived, a tall quiet girl who sat in the corner. She acknowledged us with a nod, but nothing else. I made an 'oh well' face and turned away, and that's when it happened.

"What's up ladies! We are going to kick some ass this year!"

I looked up at the door where a girl had just walked in, like right out of a gay rights poster. She was wearing a tight black T-shirt and loose jeans with black sneakers. Her hair was short, parted on the left with the bangs swept up and over.

I've mentioned the lack of diversity in my life, and I was prepared for a lot of things, but for some reason not this. My church had preached love for all peoples. We supported missionaries in Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and other places. All people are made in the image of God. Except for gays, of course. They were vilified, condemned out of hand. As far as I knew there hadn't been a single homosexual in my school. I know now that the chances of getting three-hundred random people in one place and not having some who are LGBTQ+ is next to impossible, so most likely more than a few were hiding. But at that time I was living in a small fantasy world where the bad guys lived far away. But when I did picture them, the female ones at least, they dressed like her.

But there was something else. She had these piercing blue eyes that took my breath away. And she wasn't ugly. Lesbians were supposed to be, you know, mannish and square jawed. Plain to downright homely. Instead her face was this androgynous combination of handsome femininity with soft lips and high cheekbones. I had to make myself look away.

The newcomer tossed her bag onto a table and held out a hand. "Hi. Mitch Kirkpatrick." Carrie shook it and introduced herself. Mitch turned to me and held out her hand again, and I took it lightly, wearing that same expression my mother used when she had to greet people she didn't like. Somewhere deep inside me I felt shame in my attitude, but I wasn't able to overcome it on such short notice. But I did notice how warm her hand was, and how that heat seemed to radiate up my arm. As she turned to introduce herself to the other girl in the back I looked quizzically at Carrie, mouthing 'Mitch?!' Carrie just shrugged.

Soon enough the strength and conditioning coach came in and we got down to business. I did my best to focus on what he was saying, but I could feel Mitch's eyes on me from the row behind, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. I was constantly fiddling with the strings on the neck of my halter top, and I was bitterly wishing I'd worn something more concealing.

Finally the coach dismissed us to the locker room to change, and I made sure that I sat far away from Mitch, trying not to glance at her out of the corner of my eye.

When I got out into the weight room I hopped onto the bench press, and Mitch immediately jumped in above my head to spot.

"You ready?"

I sighed and nodded, looking away from those stupidly blue eyes as I lifted the bar off its rests. I lowered it and pushed up as Mitch counted.

"One. You don't like me. How come? Everybody likes me. Two."

I spoke through my effort. "I don't know you enough to like you or not."

Mitch laughed. "Bullshit. Three. Is it 'cause I'm taller than you? Four."

I scowled at her. "No."

Her little smirk made me hate myself, and I felt that I'd given something away. "Five. Okay. Oh, I know, it's 'cause I've got better hair. Six."

"You do not! You don't have any... ungh... hair to speak of anyway."

"Seven, Ah, now we have it. You don't like girls with short hair. Eight, come on, two more. Don't girls wear their hair short where you come from? Nine. Last one, come on."

My arms were screaming, so I couldn't respond with more than a grunt as I pushed up until the bar was seated back on the rests.

"Good job, but you didn't answer my question."

I sighed and looked down, noticing for the first time that my loose tank top and sports bra weren't hiding the fact that my nipples had hardened from the exertion. I was also wearing red, skin-tight exercise pants. I must be putting on quite a show for her; the thought of which gave me a little shudder. I quickly sat up and bowed my head.

"No, they don't. Are you a Lesbian?"

Mitch gave a short laugh and tried to look offended. "Am I that obvious?"

I shrugged. "I don't know any gay women. There aren't any in my town."

That got another laugh. "I'll guarantee you that's not true. So you're not a lesbian?"

I shot her the dirtiest look I could, trying to put some serious venom in my response. "No!"

If she was annoyed or offended she didn't show it. "That's a shame. You really are cute when you're not making that face."

I spluttered, trying to come up with something witty to say, but she didn't give me a chance, turning and walking away towards the leg machines. I made my own way to the free weights and did some curls, sitting so that my back was to her. Unfortunately the damn mirrors made it so that I could see her from wherever we were. For the rest of the session I'd constantly catch her out of the corner of my eye. There was just something mesmerizing about the way she moved.

When we finished I went to sit by my locker while Mitch and Carrie and the other girl got into the shower. I couldn't handle being naked with her. She just got under my skin, if you'll pardon the expression. I couldn't help but notice her, though, when she got out. As she toweled her hair I could see her from behind. Her figure was womanly, with a strong toned behind and long firm legs that emphasized her curves.

I shook my head and turned away, wrapping a towel around my body and slipping past them into the steam filled room. As I let the water wash over my aching muscles, Mitch's eyes climbed back into my consciousness. The way she'd been smirking at me, asking me if I were a, um, god, I couldn't even think of it. Asking if I were like her. I just needed to get a boyfriend. That would shut her up.

***

It didn't take me too long. It turns out I was right about not being just small town pretty. I went to a few parties, and the guys were perfectly and predictably interested.

Unfortunately they were also college guys, and therefore that interest revolved around two things, beer and sex. You can guess which one they wanted from me. I needed someone who I could actually flaunt a little. Luckily, those weren't that hard to find, if you were patient.

I met Ethan at a frat party, and he was actually dressed in a shirt and tie. He was just under six feet tall, with soft brown eyes and dark hair that was perfectly combed.. And, given the Rolex on his wrist, he came from money. We danced and I teased, but he didn't push the issue. He did walk me to my dorm, to make sure I got back safe, he said. At the entrance he kissed me and wished me goodnight, asking if he could see me again.

When he leaned in I was hoping for that thunderbolt that my girlfriends always talked about, but nope. Still, he was gentle, and it wasn't too bad, and I happily agreed to let him take me out next Friday.

The next day I met up with Carrie and Mitch for what would become our normal Saturday workout. I regaled them both with how amazing the party had been last night and how handsome Ethan was.

"So, did you get lucky, or rather did he get lucky?"

I scowled at Mitch. "No, he did not. He was a gentleman." I let my face morph into a superior smile. I'd show her. "We kissed in the moonlight, though, and it was lovely."

"Made you all tingly and excited?"

I could feel my cheeks heat. "That is none of your business." I walked away, over to where Carrie was doing leg presses, and sat down on the machine next to her. Something in Mitch's eyes told me she already knew the answer to her question was 'no'. She went over to the free weights, and I lowered my voice so she couldn't hear. "She's a nightmare."

Carrie chuckled. "No she's not, she just makes you uncomfortable. So you really didn't have any gay students?"

I shook my head. "When I was a freshman there was a guy who had rumors going around about him. He was brutalized, got beat up a couple of times, eventually had to leave school. He was only sixteen, and I'm not even sure it was true, that he was gay. Anyone else that way inclined kept it to themselves."

Carrie nodded. "How small a school did you go to?"

"Thirty-six in my graduating class."

"Geez. Mine was huge. I was in the Atlanta suburbs. We even had a gay-straight alliance club. There were several people out, of both genders."

"Can I ask an ignorant question?" Carrie nodded. "Are all lesbians like her?" I threw a glance toward Mitch, who was sitting on a bench curling a twenty-five pound weight, her well-defined shoulders and biceps glistening with sweat. I pulled my gaze away and looked back at Carrie, who was laughing.

"I've met a few butches before, but I think it's safe to say that our Mitch is one of a kind." I looked back at Mitch, her toned muscles moving smoothly under her skin as she curled a twenty pound weight. She was so masculine, but at the same time not masculine at all. I'd never seen anything like her, and I was still finding it hard to look away.

When we were finished Mitch stretched her back. "I feel awesome. Lunch, people?"

"No thanks." I scowled and turned away, immediately hating myself for the way I sounded. I was playing right into the small town redneck rube stereotype. I always thought I was better than that. Luckily Carrie gave me a second chance.

"Aw, come on. We all have to get along."

I stopped walking and hung my head for a second before turning around. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"Hey, that's better." Mitch grinned at me, and my insides did a little lurch. I wasn't sure why, but it wasn't unpleasant.

We made our way to the cafeteria, where I selected a three-bean salad with grilled chicken and some fruit, along with unsweetened iced tea. I was happy with it, a good amount of protein but healthy. I went and sat down next to Carrie, who'd gotten some chicken and pasta thing. Mitch sat down across from me with a greasy burger and fries, which made my brow crinkle.

"How can you stay in shape eating stuff like that?"

"What? There's vegetables." She indicated the lettuce, tomato and pickles on her burger.

"That does not count and you know it."

"Sure it does. Besides, what's the point in living if all you can eat is rabbit food?" Mitch jabbed her fork at my salad. "I have nightmares about being chased by food like that."

Carrie was chuckling, and I couldn't help but laugh, too. The grin that spread across Mitch's face when I did made her look almost pretty, and I just shook my head at her.

She took a big bite from her burger. "It's really not bad, given it's dorm food. God, I miss having a proper kitchen." She swirled a fry through some ketchup. "These fries suck though."

I couldn't fully keep the incredulity out of my voice. "You cook?"

She leaned forward and locked eyes with me. "I could fix you something that would make you weep."

The intensity of her gaze held me for a second, before her shoulders started to shake in laughter. That made me grin again and shake my head. "I might just let you do that sometime. In a completely platonic sense of course." I added the last part a bit too quickly.

"I'll hold you to it."

Carrie was looking back and forth between us, and I was just starting to feel uncomfortable when Mitch turned toward her and kept going. "Both of you if I get a chance. Now the food at my High School, that was some god awful swill. I think I ate in the cafeteria there maybe three times in four years. I'd bring my own lunch and share with my friends. I was very popular."

Carrie and I both laughed, and Mitch was spurred on to share more stories from her High School. She really was funny, and I found any lingering discomfort I had slipping away.

This quickly became our Saturday normal. I was also allowing things to progress with Ethan, which gave me something to talk about, especially since I got the distinct impression that me expounding on how amazing my boyfriend was made Mitch uncomfortable. I figured it was payback. Her very presence made me nervous, though I was pretty sure I was getting better at hiding it.

The thing was, on the rare occasions that Mitch didn't make our workouts, I didn't like it. It felt empty somehow. I missed our verbal sparring. On the other hand, she did seem to take a perverse enjoyment in teasing me, but I got in more than my fair share of jabs.

I let Ethan court me for over a month before I brought him up to my room for the night. I was nervous about it, but I wasn't a virgin. This would be my first time in a bed, instead of a backseat, or once on a couch. I was expecting it to be romantic and for it to last longer. After all, Ethan was twenty and seemed so experienced, I thought he'd be great, instead of the disappointments I'd had before.

And he was better. He was gentle and considerate, and he really was trying, but my body just refused to respond. I kept a little bottle of KY Jelly next to my bed that I used to hurry things along when I masturbated, and I had to stop him so I could get it. To make up for it I went down on him until he was good and ready, and then rode him 'til he finished. I did my best to pretend to enjoy it, and I lied to him afterwards when he asked if it had been good.