by Elia Winters
Their hotel room was a chain hotel, which had at least the reliability of a standard name. It was good to be out of the car, and Megan flopped facedown on one of the beds and let all her muscles relax.
“You can’t sleep now!” The bed dipped as Scarlett sat next to her, and Megan’s pulse quickened at the touch of her hand on Megan’s back. Scarlett rubbed a gentle circle first, then shoved her affectionately. “We’ve got to go eat and head to the show.”
“We have time, right?” Megan rolled over to lie on her back instead, which was a mistake. Scarlett was now propped up over her, leaning across her prone form.
Maybe Scarlett was thinking the same thing, because her gaze dropped briefly to Megan’s mouth, and Megan remembered being pinned down in the snow this morning. But then Scarlett grinned and gave her another shove, this time from the side. “Not a lot of time. The curtain goes up at six, and I want to eat something other than fast food.”
Megan made a face. She didn’t want to get up off this bed, but she was excited about seeing the show. “Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll get dressed.”
Megan hadn’t brought a lot of clothing on this trip, anticipating getting to do laundry at some hotel along the way, but she had a couple of nice outfits in addition to the dress she planned to wear for the wedding. She selected an emerald green sweater dress from her suitcase. She was normally more of a jeans kind of girl, but this dress made her feel cute, and it felt very Nashville when she paired it with some knee-high boots. She gathered up her clothes and undergarments and headed for the bathroom.
When she left the bathroom, Scarlett was pinning up her curls into two buns up near the top of her head. It was one of the cutest hairstyles she wore, and one that always made Megan wish for something other than her own super-straight brown hair. Scarlett looked away from her hair when Megan entered the room, her gaze skimming down Megan’s body in a way that made Megan burn up inside.
Before Scarlett could say something, whether it was going to be a compliment or not, Megan blurted out, “I don’t know what to do with my hair.”
Scarlett tapped her lips, studying her like she was an interesting painting. “You want me to curl it?” Scarlett asked.
“My hair doesn’t curl.” Megan had never had any luck with that. “It’s too fine.”
Scarlett tucked the final bobby pin into her own style and walked over to Megan, running her hand through Megan’s hair. The contact sent a chill all down Megan’s spine. Oh, she wanted Scarlett to keep touching her like that.
“It’s pretty fine.” Scarlett gathered up a bunch of Megan’s hair in her hands. Megan shivered. Hopefully Scarlett wouldn’t notice the shiver. “It would curl if you didn’t wash it so much. You need it to get dirty.”
Megan laughed, and it sounded breathless coming out. “I don’t really do dirty.”
Scarlett still had the hold on her hair, and she tipped Megan’s head back to look at her. “You sure about that?”
The unspoken after last night hung in the air between them. Megan sucked in a breath, her lips parting, and their gazes locked. Then it was like Scarlett had suddenly realized what she said, and she slid her hands out of Megan’s hair and backed away. “Your hair is cute just like it is. You don’t need to do anything to it.” She turned toward the mirror again and fumbled with her makeup bag. Was it Megan’s imagination, or were Scarlett’s hands shaking? “You, uh, ever think about cutting it?” Scarlett asked.
Megan was still rattled and warm all over. It took her a moment to process Scarlett’s words. “Oh. Yeah, actually. Sometimes I think about a pixie cut. Cutting all of it off. But I get nervous.”
“It’s a big step. But you’ve got the perfect heart-shaped face for it.” Scarlett glanced over, then back at the mirror. “If you ever want to do it, there’s probably a million great salons along our road trip. Could be a fun change. And it grows back.”
She was talking fast. Megan was having a hard time thinking. “Yeah. Maybe. I’ll...do my makeup.”
She had the new makeup from Sephora to try, and while it wasn’t her area of expertise, she put together what she hoped was a good look—not super fancy, but she didn’t end up looking like a clown, either. When she returned from the bathroom, Scarlett was done.
“What about lipstick?” Scarlett asked.
“I’m wearing some.” Megan resisted the urge to touch her lips in reflex.
Scarlett frowned. “Nude?”
“It’s light pink.”
“You need a bold lip. Something really red. It would bring the whole look together.”
“I don’t have anything really red.” Megan stuck with all light pinks whenever she got makeup, which wasn’t very often. Red was showy and ostentatious, and she wasn’t the type of person to try to get noticed.
Scarlett rummaged in her bag and pulled out a lipstick. “Here. Let me.” She touched Megan’s chin, gently tilting her head back, and then began to apply the lipstick with focused precision. Megan tried not to shiver as Scarlett held her face perfectly still, her attention locked onto Megan’s lips. When she finished, they held that pose, and desire flared up in Megan like a flashover. She wanted to lean forward and ruin that perfect lipstick against Scarlett’s berry-red mouth.
Scarlett stepped back hastily, like she could read Megan’s mind. “There.” She fumbled the cap back onto the lipstick. “That looks great.”
The effect was striking. Megan’s mouth looked so full and lush, like a ripe fruit. She looked like she’d been kissing someone instead of just imagining it.
“Hang on to it,” Scarlett told her, handing over the lipstick. “To reapply.”
They went to a little barbecue place not far from the hotel so they wouldn’t have to walk far to get to the Opry. Conversation was mostly about food and music, light topics, and the tension underneath Megan’s skin had nothing to do with the conversation but about all the things they weren’t saying. She knew she was still upset with Scarlett, but the reasons for that anger felt more nebulous the farther into this trip they went. By the time they were seated at the show, it was hard to latch onto anything but her own excitement and the aching desire now settling into her bones like it had always been there. Maybe it had.
Then, the big red curtain went up, and Megan’s focus shifted to something far more immediate and transporting.
When the first performer began singing, Megan’s breath left her. Why didn’t she go see more live music? Why didn’t she do this all the time?
“She’s incredible,” Scarlett said breathlessly when the first song was done and the audience applauded. “And she’s the opener.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” This place felt holy, even with the riotous applause and the loud music, the experience resonating in Megan’s body was like when she used to go to church concerts as a little kid with her grandmother and feel the music shake her down to the core. Tears filled her eyes, even though the songs weren’t sad. She wanted to hold Scarlett’s hand. She wanted to dissolve in this music. She wanted to lose herself and never find herself again.
By the time the show finished, hours later, Megan was wrung-out and exhilarated. Her emotions bounced all over the place, and she struggled to hold the camera steady to photograph the big guitar in front of the building. As she watched the image develop, Scarlett asked her how she was doing. She ended up shaking her head, struggling to articulate her feelings. “I...never get to hear music like that. It’s so consuming. It’s the way music should be.” Being here, listening to people who had devoted their lives to this art, evoked a longing inside Megan like a tangible ache. At the same time, she felt transported and transcendent.
“You gonna be okay?” Scarlett asked, nudging her.
“Yes? And no. That was amazing.” Megan felt giddy. “I can’t go back to the hotel and sleep right now.”
“Good.” Scarlett pointed down the street. �
�There’s a bar a few blocks over doing karaoke, and we’re going. All right?”
Megan nodded, still a little dizzy, and tucked the photo carefully into an envelope in her pocket. She wouldn’t say no to anything right now. “All right.”
* * *
Ah, damn, Megan was drunk. Okay, it wasn’t like it was an actual surprise; she’d planned on getting drunk the moment Scarlett had mentioned karaoke. Maybe, if she was honest, she had planned on getting drunk ever since the morning when she’d realized she was going to have to deal with her feelings for Scarlett and whatever weird form they were taking. Maybe knowing they were coming to Nashville was enough of a reason. But even if all those things hadn’t been true, they’d gone to a bar, she’d sung some songs, and she’d had several very strong drinks. Bar snacks hadn’t done much for absorbing the alcohol, and even with a few waters in her, she was going to feel it in the morning.
But right now? Right now, the judgmental side of her brain was blissfully quiet, and it had warmed up enough that the night was pleasantly cool rather than bone-chillingly cold, and she and Scarlett were walking very close together down a sidewalk toward a beautiful and well-lit park. They kept bumping against each other as they walked, and Megan wanted to grab Scarlett’s arm to steady herself, and so she did. She didn’t stop herself from giggling. She didn’t blame it all away on the alcohol, either, even though Scarlett would probably think that’s what it was.
“Are you even drunk?” Megan looked up at Scarlett, who was only an inch or so taller but sometimes felt larger than life, and tried to tell from her eyes. Ha! Like she’d be able to tell in her own inebriated state. Scarlett’s gentle smile indicated that she was thinking just such a thing.
“I wouldn’t drive, that’s for sure. But I don’t think I’m as drunk as you.” Scarlett gave her a little nudge with her elbow.
“I don’t get drunk that much. It’s nice.” Megan’s smile felt lazy. The dichotomy in her body warranted further investigation; on one hand, she was alert and alive, all her nerve endings firing like she was hyperaware of her senses and her surroundings. But on the other hand, she was sleepy, slow, lazy, not worried about anything. “What about you? Do you drink a lot?”
“Not anymore.” Scarlett looked like she had thoughts about that, and Megan didn’t want her to stay quiet. They’d reached the park, and they stopped beneath a streetlight, not willing to sit but still lingering.
“You did but you don’t much anymore. Tell me.” Megan faced Scarlett and took both of her hands. They should really get gloves. Her hands were freezing.
Scarlett looked at their hands together like she didn’t know what to make of them, her brow furrowing. She stared without speaking for a long time before looking back into Megan’s eyes. “All right. You want some honesty? Here you go. I drank a lot while I lived in New York. It got to be a shortcut for relaxing. I was first drinking with people, then I was drinking alone. One night I woke up passed out in a subway station with no memory of how I got there, so I stopped drinking.”
Megan felt a trickle of soberness return to her, the icy realization of truth pushing a bit of her fog away. “I’m sorry. Do you... Should you have done it tonight?”
Scarlett smiled gently. “It’s fine. I’m not an alcoholic. I can drink in moderation. I just needed to get it out of my system to get some new habits. Now I have new habits, and if I drink, it’s okay.”
“I don’t do anything fun, Scarlett.” The words were tumbling out before Megan could stop them. She even slurred a few, and god, maybe she was too far gone for this. Scarlett might not even think she was in her right mind. “I don’t. I work and I come home and I don’t do anything. I don’t go anywhere. I fuck people and I don’t let myself open up to them. I put everybody else first and I don’t know how to do anything different. My whole life is shit.”
Scarlett’s laugh broke the quiet of the night.
“Don’t make fun of me!” Megan pulled her hands back.
“No, you just don’t swear a lot. It’s sweet.”
Megan was annoyed by that, too. “Don’t call me sweet! It’s patronizing.” It took her two tries to get through the word patronizing.
Scarlett was still smiling, but apologetically now. “I’m not making fun of you. I like it.” She paused like she was going to say, “I like you,” but she didn’t. She bit her lip instead. That full, plump lip, that Megan wanted to feel against hers.
Megan surged forward in a clumsy, impulsive movement, leaning up, reaching for Scarlett’s upper arms to get some leverage as she attempted to kiss her. She needed to do this fast, before she thought too much of it, and the adrenaline pulsed through her body and urged her onward.
“Whoa! Easy.” Scarlett easily ducked back, holding a hand out to push Megan away. It was a definite push, a definite refusal. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Her eyes looked wary and she didn’t want Megan to kiss her. Oh, fuck, she didn’t want Megan to kiss her.
Megan felt her whole face burn up with embarrassment. Wasn’t this okay? “I don’t—” she began, but she didn’t know what to finish that with. “Like last night. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Not like this.” Scarlett’s tone, gentle and soft, was nearly worse than her refusal. “Not when you don’t know what you want.”
Hot tears welled up in Megan’s eyes, the shame of being rejected bubbling up through her and burning her skin. “Let’s just go back.”
Chapter Ten
Scarlett wished she’d slept better as they loaded up the car the next morning. For how drunk Megan had seemed last night, she’d woken up without a hint of a hangover, but that didn’t mean she was chipper. Scarlett had taken steps to prevent her own hangover, like aspirin and a lot of water, but still felt tired as they finished packing the car and grabbed breakfast at the utilitarian breakfast place attached to their hotel. Megan was a person of few words as she ate her meal, avoiding eye contact and making small talk only about the decor in the restaurant. But she apparently wasn’t going to bring up trying to kiss Scarlett, and they couldn’t spend ten hours in a car together today without clearing the air at least a little.
“Do you want to talk about last night?” Scarlett asked.
Megan froze, then shook her head, her eyes locked on the glass of orange juice in front of her. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have done it. I was hoping we could forget it ever happened.”
“I don’t need to forget it ever happened, but maybe we could talk about what you want?” Scarlett tried to keep her tone gentle, because Megan looked like she was going to bolt. “You haven’t done a lot of talking about that.”
Megan stared down at her juice, then drank more of it. “Can’t we just forget it and move on?”
Forgetting it would mean it never happening again. Scarlett wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted, either. “I thought you were still mad at me.”
“I am.”
“And yet the other night—” Scarlett began, but then the waitress came by to clear their plates and deliver the check, and she had to stop. When the waitress left again, Megan jumped in.
“I can get physical with somebody without it meaning anything.” Megan finished her juice and set the glass down. “I thought we were both on the same page about that.”
“It’s not like I mind.” Scarlett didn’t mind at all. “But I’m not going to fool around with you if you’re drunk.”
“Okay. Got it.” Megan looked at where the waitress had disappeared only moments earlier. “Why isn’t she back yet?”
“Give her time. Look. Megan.” Scarlett waited until Megan looked over at her. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Megan snorted. “I don’t want you to think I was only coming onto you because I was drunk.”
Scarlett’s heart skipped, a momentary hope flaring up inside her. Maybe Megan was going to forgive her. Or admit she had feelings.
“Then why?”
“Because.” Megan stared, and Scarlett held her breath waiting for the rest of this confession. Finally, Megan shrugged. “Sex is fun. Getting off is fun. I thought we’d broken the ice about that.”
Oh. So this was just about getting off, then. Scarlett ignored her own twinge of disappointment. “Maybe when we’re both sober.”
The waitress came back then, though, and Megan signed her credit card receipt and then bolted for the car.
The GPS led them out to the highway, and Megan accelerated to a more aggressive speed as they headed along the road. Scarlett watched it happen for a little over a mile, and then finally cleared her throat. “Hey, so what’s the matter?”
“What?” Megan asked, like she hadn’t heard.
“Well, you’re staring at the road like it wounded you, and you’re going—” she leaned over to check the speedometer. “—seventy-five miles an hour.”
“You go seventy-five when you’re driving,” Megan pointed out.
“And you barely go the speed limit. So that’s how I know something’s wrong.” Scarlett folded her arms.
“Fine.” Megan sat up straighter in her chair. “Truth or dare?”
Oh, so apparently they were playing this again. It wasn’t exactly the best way to talk like adults, but at least it would make Megan talk.
“Truth.”
“How many people have you slept with?” Megan asked.
It wasn’t an unfair question, especially after she’d asked Megan the same thing, but she couldn’t be sure of Megan’s motives. It might not be curiosity. Still, she’d long since passed shame about her sexual history. “Fourteen.” Scarlett looked back over at her. “Does that shock you?”
“Nope.” Megan clicked the cruise control on and relaxed back. “Seems pretty normal for someone like you.”
Scarlett’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
“Someone people want. Someone beautiful.”
Megan said it so matter-of-fact, like she was stating the weather or the miles they still had left to go. Scarlett was left reeling, not because Megan saw her that way, but because it was clear Megan didn’t see herself the same way at all.
