#tarogen

There had been a light pink glow on Imogen's cheeks since early that morning, but as she approached Tara's door, she was positively red before anything happened.  She'd tried to play coy with Tara the day before in school, but it was evasion more than anything.  Despite the present master that she thought she was, she had been racking her brain trying to think of something appropriate.  Her first girlfriend ever, who was also her best friend, on their first Valentine's Day.

Late Friday evening, Imogen had been struck with an idea, and had stayed up until well past her bedtime hunching over glue, craft scissors, and an air pump.  She now stood outside Tara's door, a bouquet of fifteen balloons in holiday-appropriate colors floating behind her.  They were tied to a washer taped to the back of a homemade valentine, with a felt tip pen message written inside.

Dear Tara, I don't know if you being my girlfriend means that you are already my valentine, but I still hope you will be mine even if it doesn't.  You make me so happy and you deserve everything you want.  Happy Valentine's Day! Love, Imogen

She knocked on the door with bouncing feet.

DON’T YOU OOPS ME WOMAN

[My character dies in the place of yours/for your sake.]

With a low grunt and Tara’s wrist in his grasp, the mugger thrust his switchblade forward.  She started to scream, screwing her eyes shut.

“NO!” Imogen shrieked, jumping in between Tara and the mugger before she could even realize what she was doing.  Then she heard a low squish, and her world went still.  Her body went numb, save for a dull pain in her stomach.  Almost in slow motion, she turned her gaze down and saw the switchblade pushed up in her.  There was a red stain in her shirt forming around it, slowly getting bigger with every passing second.  Tara was at a loss for words.  The scream in her throat had stopped short and fizzled out.  At that moment, all she wanted to do was summon up another one, but she was too shocked to think straight.

The switchblade was jerked out.  The mugger ran away, neither of the girls having the mental strength to run after him at that moment.  Tara’s eyes were welling up and Imogen’s were clouding over.  Her center of gravity swayed for a moment before she crumpled to the ground altogether.

”Immy!!“  Tara, finally finding the scream she had been looking for, dropped to her knees and tried to scoop her girlfriend up in her arms.  Imogen was crying silently with the occasional twitch.  The dull stomach pain had turned into a white hot burning and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

"Immy, say something!!”  Tara was hysterical now, tears blurring her vision and voice scratching.  "Please!!“

Imogen started to nibble on her fingers as she let her phone drop back onto her bed.  She was slightly disappointed in herself for giving up her "random act of kindness from a complete stranger" act so easily.  But more importantly, she was freaking out about Tara coming over.  Which was strange in itself, because Tara was her best friend.  And it's not like she worried about her walking into a wreck of a room because Imogen was actually a very tidy person.  She kept all of her dirty clothes in her hamper and all of her homework was neatly stacked and divided into decoupaged magazine holders on her desk.

She was freaking out over the fact that Tara said she was going to come over to kiss her.  Now, had she meant one of her playful on-the-cheek kisses?  Or...something else?  Imogen pulled the nearest pillow over her head and scrunched her nose up in frustration.  This is probably what people in movies meant when they talked about getting "mixed signals" from someone.  Then there was a knock at the door and Imogen immediately dropped the pillow back onto the bed, smoothing her hair.  "It's not locked."