When Charlie turned the corner, he tried to hide his smile but then gave up. Just seeing her left him buzzing inside.
She’d dressed up for him in a pair of dark jeans and a dark green button-down shirt. Her chest was bound tightly, balancing out her full frame and adding to her masculine presence without fully erasing her femininity. That middle space between genders always turned him on, but Charlie made his breath catch in his throat. She’d dressed up for him.
There was a flash of lighter green sticking out of her pocket which he was almost certain, as she came closer, was a tie. How adorable was it that she’d pulled out a tie for their date and then forgotten to put it on? It was going to be crumpled now, and she’d probably be embarrassed when she realized it was there.
His smile grew wider.
She was stalking down the hall, practically marching, her posture confident and strong. So damn sexy, and he usually wasn’t attracted to people who presented themselves that way. Hell, she might even be offended if he suggested that she submit. Yet those were the thoughts that always danced through his head.
Her hair was wet, the short strands clumped together in little spikes that made him want to touch. When they’d met, she’d been mostly gray at the temples, but now her whole head was shot through with silver, glistening in the hallway light.
It took him a moment to remember to speak, but he thought he was able to keep his voice casual. “Come on in!”
“Hi,” she said awkwardly. Her chin was set at a defiant edge, like she was daring him to do something. Her eyes were darting around, though. She was probably freaking out far more than he was, and all of his nerves melted away. Her prickly defenses just made him want to wrap her up and keep her safe.
He took her hand, drawing her in toward him while reaching behind her to shut the door. The maneuver had them practically embracing, their bodies just an inch apart. He didn’t miss Charlie’s indrawn breath, and he knew he must be responding the same way.
He’d planned on taking things slowly. Eating dinner together and chatting to give her time to get more comfortable.
That didn’t feel right anymore. Not just because she was so deliciously, kissably close and her hand was burning through his where they touched. But because now that he could see the anxiety behind her confidence, he wanted to take it away.
The thing she’d said earlier about being two butches had really stuck with him. At first, he’d thought she was appalled, but he was increasingly sure that she was more frightened.
She was the type that liked to face challenges head on so that she could get past them. Maybe if he could just prove to her that this was alright, that this thing throbbing between them could be good.
He just hoped he wasn’t screwing this up.
He pressed a little close to her in the tiny entryway. Their bodies were touching now, teasingly close at chest, belly and thighs though their linked hands were still between them. The back of Carla’s hand brushed Charlie’s chest and he could feel the warmth of her body even through all the layers she was wearing.
They were standing far too close for friendship, but she didn’t back up, holding her ground. He almost couldn’t believe this was happening.
He looked into her deep brown eyes and spoke with a warm, calming voice. “Thank you for joining me on a date. I’ve been thinking of this for a long time.”
Her eyes narrowed, like she still didn’t believe him.
He pressed a little closer to her, consciously licking his lips.
Her eyes darted down to follow his tongue. The mix of desire and worry in her eyes was intoxicating. Not because he liked his partners to be scared, but because she was making herself so vulnerable and trusting to him as she leaned a little bit toward him.
He was pretty sure now that whatever demons she was battling weren’t mostly about him. He’d back off if she didn’t like it, but this was more of a demonstration. A chance for her to test things out.
He pressed his closed lips to hers and the tingling between them turned into lightning. A soft hum built in her throat and her eyes fluttered closed.
He’d been waiting for this for so long, and now that it was happening it was better than he imagined.
Charlie melted into him, and he pushed her back against the door to balance both of them while the world spun. He ran a hand through her hair, letting himself finally touch the damp strands. He’d been dreaming of this for so long.
Reluctantly, he pulled away. That was enough for now. Enough, hopefully, to let her know how much he wanted this. How good they could be together.
They stared at each other, Charlie’s eyes dark and wide, full of heat.
Then she turned away, slipping from his grasp. “Fuck.”
“Charlie?” Carla took a step toward her and then hesitated, unsure if he should touch. What was going through her head? “Can we talk about it?”
Charlie shook her head. “I… yeah. There’s a lot to talk about.”
Carla took a chance and touched her shoulder. “I want to hear all of it. Kissing you was… amazing. Better than I imagined, and believe me, I’ve been thinking about you for a long time.”
Charlie looked up in surprise. “Really?”
There was no reason to hide it now. “Really. I haven’t dated anyone else in months because you’re the only one I can think about. I just didn’t have the nerve to ask you out until today. Hell, I was flipping out even a few minutes ago that you weren’t going to show up.”
Charlie blinked at him. “Seriously? You were nervous? You’re always so… casual and happy.”
Carla nodded. “I was terrified. You’re always so stern and in control. And you brush me off every time I flirt. I thought I didn’t have a chance. God, the whole gang at Whirlwind teases the fuck out of me every time I go there because I’m all heart-eyed over you and you never give me the time of day.”
“You know they have bets on us, right?”
Carla rolled his eyes. “I’m sure they do.”
“That doesn’t make this any easier.” Charlie sighed. “I, um, didn’t realize it was like that. And I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just…I never know what to say around you, and it always looked like you had it so easy.”
“Ha! If only. I think we’re stumbling around here together. But…” He took a chance and touched her hand. “I’d like to figure things out with you.”
Charlie gave him a searching look. “No promises. I just… I don’t think I understand anything right now.”
“Hey,” Carla soothed. “Let’s just have dinner. Like we planned. We can just chat, or you can ask me questions. If you feel like sharing anything about yourself, I want to hear it, but no pressure. All I’m asking for right now is the pleasure of your company at a meal and the chance to see where things go.”
“OK,” Charlie finally agreed.
That was all it took to have his heart leaping in his chest.
Chapter 3
Charlie
Charlie stood in the hallway, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. God, that kiss had been electric. Unbelievable.
Was it possible that all this time she’d had it wrong and she wasn’t attracted to feminine women after all?
She knew that she’d been watching Carla for a long time. But the way that he’d backed her into the wall, his confident, masculine form boxing her in, had taken her breath away as much as the kiss had.
She could barely remember her first kiss aside from the nervous excitement of actually being able to do it, the thrill of feeling a soft cheek against her own.
With Carla, it had been magical.
It felt transgressive, though. Somehow more queer and misaligned than she already was. Confusing and overwhelming, even though she still wanted more.
She still didn’t understand all of the kinky stuff, but maybe, just maybe, it was something she could let herself want. If they got past everything else.
Carla finally stepped back, but he grabbed her hand to pull her int
o the living room. Bemused, she followed.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d held hands with someone. Her last memories were of long painted nails and a lot of judgment.
Carla’s hand was confident and firm, sending a confusing array of sensations through her. She could scarcely breathe just knowing that their palms were touching, her whole body attuned to that small patch of skin.
And yet, what did it mean about who Charlie was if she was letting Carla lead her this way?
With Carla, everything was just so… different. But was Charlie different?
Could she live in Carla’s world? Did she want to?
No, she knew she wanted to. It just seemed so awfully far away. Like some fantasy land at the end of a treasure map, with half the paths faded away and the signposts lost. She wanted to be free and easy with her body and her identity. And good God did she want to be with Carla.
She just didn’t know how to get there.
Carla stopped walking and Charlie almost bumped into him, finally taking in the neat little table.
She stopped just to stare. This wasn’t just a meal. It was a feast.
There were a dozen little bowls and plates in a riot of bright colors: red cubes of tomatoes, gleaming black olives, the bright white of cheese, toasted brown pita, and glistening green oil. And those were just the things she recognized. There were two small bowls with different powders, one maroon and one forest green, as well as a thick white sauce and a thin tan one. Everything looked delicious.
Carla left her to stare while he took a few steps into the kitchen and eased something out of the oven.
With a flourish, he set down a large bowl of pale brown beans, mashed roughly with a swirl of oil on top. He returned a moment later with a round pastry-like thing, the dough flakey and shining.
“Carla! You made all this?” It was astounding. Not the variety itself or that Carla had made it. But that he had made it for her.
He gave her his signature easy grin. “I did. I mean, I didn’t milk the goats and make the cheese, but the feteer meshaltet takes hours to make. Lots of rolling out dough and then folding it up and doing it again. I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I will,” she murmured.
She buried her pleased embarrassment by putting a little of everything on her plate. Every spoonful just reinforced what she was slowly coming to believe. Carla was serious about this. For whatever crazy reason, it seemed to be real.
She wasn’t getting her hopes up yet, though. There was a huge leap between attraction and… wanting to deal with all of her shit.
She wanted to talk about it, but she wasn’t sure where to start. Her history, her hang ups… She wasn’t like Carla, who was always so open and sure of himself. Who had words for all of his feelings and other peoples’ besides.
She just tried to make it look like she knew what she was doing and muddle through things most of the time.
She took her first bite and flavors exploded on her tongue. The spicy meat, the flaky crust, and the dab of yogurt on top all swirled together perfectly. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you.” Carla gave her a warm smile. A special smile. Like it meant something that she liked his cooking. Or maybe like she was special.
She had no idea what to say. Desire and nerves thrummed through her body, leaving her mute and awkward.
Fortunately, Carla took the lead on the conversation, like he always did. Carla talked about his kids at school and the summer program he was working at part time, which explained why he had so much free time right now.
Charlie fell back to talking about the bar, sharing stories from the early years and funny encounters with drunk patrons, though she maybe suspected he’d heard some of the stories before.
They were traveling conversational paths they’d walked before, and it felt relaxed and comfortable. Carla was witty and real, and she could see herself slipping into the habit of just being with him all too easily. Sharing homemade meals over a tiny table and laughing together about their days. She hadn’t had that since…
She pushed the thought away.
This was Carla, who was more kind and thoughtful than Lacey had ever been. She just needed to keep her expectations in check.
At last, she couldn’t eat another bite.
“I still can’t believe you made all this.” She said as she wiped her mouth with the napkin. “You said your grandmother taught you how to make this?”
“Yep. My grandmother immigrated from Egypt and met my grandfather here. She cooked big meals like this almost every night. I love going back to visit her.”
“Do you speak… I don’t even know what language they speak in Egypt. Have you ever been?”
“Arabic. And yes, I’ve visited a few times, and I spent a year there in high school, but it was at a British-based school. Most of my childhood was between Japan and the U.S., though. We moved around a lot.”
“Was it difficult?” Charlie was starting to realize that there was a lot they’d never spoken about. Almost nothing personal. And Carla was fascinating.
“Yes and no. I was actually that crazy kid who loved moving and making new friends. We lived in Costa Rica for a semester once and my mother says that I didn’t know five words in Spanish when we arrived, but by the end of the day I had a whole crowd of kids organized into some sort of game.”
Yeah, that sounded like Carla.
“I lost two years of school here and there moving between countries, but it made me more mature when I started college. I think for some students moving between countries is a real challenge, but I had a lot of resources, education, and opportunities to be successful. I got to see it as more of an adventure.”
“Was it difficult for you growing up queer in those countries? I mean, with how you identify?”
“I think it would have been if I’d lived there while I was older. Japan was fine for me as a kid. We lived in Tokyo and I had to wear a uniform skirt to school every day, but it wasn’t a big deal when I wore boys’ clothes on Sundays. And to be honest, it took me awhile to figure myself out. It might have been different as an adult, because even with progressive laws, most people don’t come out. My dad tells people that he has a queer kid sometimes and they’re polite but kind of fascinated because it seems so rare. He’s in academia and I don’t think he’s told most of his colleagues or supervisors.”
Carla paused to take a bite, then continued. “Living in Cairo as a teenager was much, much harder. Women have to cover their heads and it’s very, very gendered. But I was also a foreigner there. There was a bit of leeway with me wearing more masculine clothing because people thought I was an American or Japanese tourist. I kept my shoulders and legs covered, and that’s what they were most concerned about for outsiders.
“I was irate about the way women were treated, especially after living in other countries with much more gender equality. And you can end up in jail for wearing a rainbow flag, though I found a few allies. It was a learning experience, though, and I made it through alright. It helps me relate to a lot of my students.”
Carla shrugged. “As an adult, I’ve just lived in the U.S. and visited family once in a while. I can follow local customs for a few weeks without setting off my dysphoria too much, and if I occasionally get slurs thrown at me, I just ignore it. Especially in Cairo, I just pretend I don’t speak Arabic and walk away.”
Charlie took a moment to respond. She’d kind of thought that Carla had it easy. That he was so free with his identity and his desires because he’d grown up in a different era and never known hostility or prejudice. But it was just him. He was strong and confident in a way that she only pretended to be.
“Your parents supported you?”
Carla nodded. “All the way. They’ve supported me in trying to figure out how out to be in each country and what that looks like. I think it’s helped them to have an international perspective, too. When you experience a lot of different cultural traditions, I think it helps you to notice
that there’s not just one right way to do everything.”
That made sense. Sometimes, even decades later, Charlie still felt like she was trapped in rural Arkansas.
“So, what about you?”
This was the moment. She felt like she owed Carla this story, like he needed to hear it before they went any further. But that didn’t make it any easier to tell.
When she was silent for too long, Carla took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. It was an unfamiliar gesture. Usually she was the one doing that, the one taking the man’s role.
Was this what it had felt like for all those women she’d done it to? To be cherished and desired and taken care of? She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Did it mean she was less… whatever she was? Less butch?
But it was sexy, too. Carla was such a… gentleman seemed only the right word. Taking on old fashioned manners and making them meaningful. Like they meant something. Like she meant something.
Carla walked around the small table, still holding her hand. “Let’s go over to the couch.”
Charlie rose automatically, following Carla in some confusing tangle of anxiety and anticipation.
The couch was small, just two cushions, and covered with a colorful throw and a riot of pillows. It was a very Carla space, warm and inviting.
She sat down gingerly on the edge, but Carla wrapped one arm around her and put a hand over hers. It felt… amazing. She’d hardly let herself imagine being this close, and now that she was, it was electrifying.
She kept waiting for the next move, for Carla to do something sexy and dazzling that would sweep everything away.
But instead, there was just the smooth brush of Carla’s thumb over her knuckles. His solid chest pressed to her arm. There were no words between them, but it was still exciting. Magical.
Would there be more kisses? She both wanted them and feared them.
Carla’s breath was soft on her forehead, and she knew that if she lifted her head that Carla would sweep her up into another breathless kiss. It was tempting. So very tempting.
Whirlwind Page 33
