Creative Writing Story

I'm taking a creative writing class at my university and am having a few issues with writing my fiction story. This story accounts for half of my grade, so its not an assignment i can skip. It focuses on a testing the waters lesbian relationship, more a series of dates if I can write that much. I feel very strongly about writing about this but am having to soul search to do it. I feel very drained by this but i know that in the end Ill feel rewarded by digging through all of the emotional muck. what I'm really having issues with is not being embarrassed by the topic and really putting myself out there for this story. Its very personal and I don't know how ill feel if i ever get it published and my parents read it or something. on the other hand i know there are plenty of people that would appreciate it if I did write and publish it. I'm including a scene to demonstrate my writing style and how much tension there is.

     As we sat there she drew on the back of her paper place-mat. She drew curves and swirls with crosshatched lines that gave the illusion of dimension. The fingernails that held her pen were thick from the acrylic laid over them and yellowed on both sides. The smoke from her fourth or fifth cigarette was starting to choke me. Curving around me like a noose, like the swirls on her place-mat. Our food must have come then because Rachel got her second coffee. Her nails clicked against the side of the mug as she brought it to her nose and kissed the cup. Steam from the mug drifted up into her alien sized eyes and she closed them. The creases of her black make up became strikingly evident and I realized I was staring. My own embarrassment didn’t stop me from sliding my hand across the table to take her free hand. I must have startled her because she coughed and a drip if coffee landed on the silk-screened superman emblem on her chest. I wondered then who she was planning to save and hoping it was me.

    When I asked for the check she looked at me funny, then she said “Let me get it”. When the server came with the check he stayed there standing in front of our table. He had a name-tag that read “Garcia” and a face that read confused. Rachel and I both looked at the check but she got up first. While she walked to the counter I entertained the idea that she felt bad about the hand holding and wanted to make it up to me somehow. Rachel smiled at the cashier and my fantasies fell like tears into the Nile and I thought maybe she just wasn’t interested. I forgot my worries as I remembered the tattered parts of her jeans. I followed her footsteps closer and closer as she glided on her worn hems. I was still watching her feet when she stopped right in front of me. My brain followed my eyes up her frame to her face and my mouth tensed into a smirk. She rolled her eyes in embarrassment as she grabbed her bag and headed out into the cold air.