Cleo's p.o.v.

As soon as Sierra has left, I collapse on my sofa and gather my energy enough to put my favorite movie in the player. It's called Spirit: Stallion Of The Cimarron.

I love the characters because they so remind me of me. I also love Spirit, the horse. He's my role model. He has that adventurous spark in his eyes, and the fighting instinct that completely takes him over is like a reality check for me, reminding me that, no matter what, I have to keep fighting. I yearn terribly for the peace and happiness that Spirit found at the end of the movie.

But that beautiful strand of hope I get from watching it makes me think that someday I'll get just that. We each have our individual battles to fight, and knowing that Spirit won his makes me determined to win mine.

I know that, despite my bad days, weeks, months, and years, I still have a flame of spirit inside of me.

And, suddenly, I know exactly what I need to do.

***
Sierra's p.o.v

I dash back to my camper, thinking about what Cleo just said. I can't argue, and I certainly can't be mad at her, because she's right. It's not fair of me to ask her to give me her heart when she doesn't know yet if I'm going to break it. I need to figure myself out before I do anything about Cleo.

I sit down on the table, to think. I do like Cleo. I can't deny the fact. I like her a lot. I want to kiss her and date her and make love to her.

But, according to everything my mother has ever taught me, to feel this way about Cleo is the worst crime one could ever commit. She's frequently said that being gay is a sin and that all gay people need to die and go to Hell.

But any dummy can see that Cleo is not the type of person who needs to die or go to Hell or who is wrong in any way. Cleo is comforting. She puts other people's happiness before her own, and she takes on everyone's problems without solving hers. She's empathetic and compassionate and loves everyone equally. She doesn't look down on anything or anybody.

She's loving, caring, and easy to be around. She's honest and trustworthy.

And I want, more than anything, to make her mine.

***

As I'm getting up to get a snack, I hear the entrance to my favorite song in the entire history of songs, I Will Always Return by Bryan Adams. The music is coming from the beach.

On impulse, I get up and follow the music down the cliff to the water's edge. Standing right beside a CD player is Cleo.

When she sees me standing there, she stares into my eyes for a couple of seconds. I stare back into hers, reading every little detail embedded in the pure blue.

I feel deeply connected to her, and the song playing in the background. An overwhelming sense of peace hits me before I have time to think.

Cleo senses it, reaches over to the CD player, and restarts the song.

I close my eyes as the familiar lyrics run through my brain, with deeper meaning than ever before.

I hear, the wind, call my name,

The sound, that leads, me home again

Sparks of the fire,

A flame that still burns

To you, I will always return

I know the road is long,

But where you are is home

Wherever you stay,

I'll find the way

I'll run like the river

I'll follow the sun

I'll fly like an eagle

To where I belong

I can't stand the distance

I can't dream alone

I can't wait to see you

Yes, I'm on my way home

Now, I know it's true

My every road leads to you

In the hour of darkness

Your light gets me through

You run like the river

You shine like the sun

You fly like an eagle

Yeah you are the one!

I've seen every sunset

And with that all that I've learned

Is to you,

I will always, always return.

At that part, I look into Cleo's eyes, and I understand. I understand what she's trying to tell me, what she knows in her heart. I can feel her begging me, begging me to realize that what I've been looking for for so long is right in front of me.

Slowly I walk forward, until our chests are touching. I look into the depths of her aqua blue eyes, and I know. I know.

This is where I belong. I belong here, at Lake Pomme De Terre, with Cleo. This is my home.

She looks at me, and it's a look so full of love that I step closer until I'm positioned directly across from her. She whispers to me, so soft I can barely hear it, "I love you."

And then, without a doubt, I know that I am a lesbian. And I am in love with Cleo Adams.

"I love you, too," I whisper to Cleo. Then, without any hesitation, I stand up on my tiptoes and press my lips to hers.

Cleo feels the desperation, the hunger, in my kiss, and she responds even more ferociously than I expected. An overwhelming feeling of peace takes me over.

Shocks run through my body, and I feel like I'm doing something everyone will think is amazing. Electricity seems to skitter up my arms, and I shiver under her touch. The taste of Cleo's lips is so delicious, I find myself hungering desperately for more.

I've wanted for so long to do this. From the day I saw her, to now, I've wanted to feel her lips on mine. I've wanted to taste her, feel her, connect with her. I've wanted to be that girl that she talks about to her friends and brags about to other people. I've wanted her.

And now, here I am, and what we're doing feels so right. I don't think about my mother or how this is against all of her rules for me. I only think of Cleo, and how I know so wholeheartedly that I love her, that this is who I am, and she is where I belong, where my home is.

"I love you," I mumble again against her lips. "I love you, too," she whispers back, and shivers of pleasure, of love, run down my back.

I press as close as I can to her. She runs her fingers through my hair, messing it up and somewhat marking me with her fingernails as they grab furiously at my hair.

I stuff my tongue between her lips. She gasps slightly as she grants me entrance. Our tongues mangle together, initiating a fight for dominance, which I win. I gently bite her inner lip, causing her to moan slightly. A tingle runs down my spine as I press into her lips for one last, fiery moment.

When we finally pull apart, my heart is bursting with love for the woman in front of me. I bring my finger to my mouth, feeling the leftover tingles. I lick my lips, tasting her all over again. We stand in the summer sunshine, Cleo's kiss resting like soft petals on my lips.

"Are you okay?" she asks worriedly as she releases me. "Yeah," I say, smiling. I feel the need to say something, anything, to communicate what I'm feeling right now. But I can't seem to put it into words, the desire to be with her, the revelations, the new acceptance of my sexuality.

Finally, I look up, into her aqua blue eyes so filled with love, and I say the one thing I know she'll understand.

"I'm home."