by J. T. Marie
The blood roared in Dana’s ears, and she couldn’t be sure she heard her friend clearly over the sound. She couldn’t even hear herself speak or feel her numb lips move when she reminded Bethany, “You said we were just friends. You said—”
“Maybe…” Bethany shrugged and squeezed Dana’s hand. Her gaze held Dana’s, pinning her in place. “Maybe we can be something more. I don’t like other girls, but I like you. No—I love you, I do. And I know you still love me, too.”
Dana’s mind spun in a million directions at once, and her heart swelled with emotion. She loves me. You heard it here first, guys. In a dingy booth at Denny’s. She loves me. I don’t know whether to scream or laugh or cry. Part of her wanted to do all three at once, and the conflicting emotions seemed to cancel each other out, so she simply sat there, stunned, unsure of what to say or do next.
Before she could come up with a response, any response, a throat cleared above them and Dana looked up to find the waitress standing over them, staring at them with wide eyes. “I’m just gonna come back, okay?” She flashed them an embarrassed, toothy grin. “Take your time.”
As she hurried away, Dana glanced at Bethany. A moment later, they burst into giggles, their friendship mended as if it had never been broken in the first place.
Chapter 5: Like I Love You
January 2000
Dana stayed with her parents through the holidays, then returned with Bethany to New York. Though her mother bitched about the arrangement, she thought both her parents were more than a little relieved to see her go. At her age, she needed to be out of their house and on her own, even if that meant living with someone else. As long as it wasn’t with them, they were happy.
And being back with Bethany again, so was she.
They picked up right where they had left off, as if Dana had only gone home to visit for a weekend and hadn’t walked away without saying goodbye for a good month or so before Bethany came after her. There were some subtle changes, of course, things that only helped their friendship grow. Bethany started to stand up for herself at work, so she had more normal hours and was no longer gone all the time. Now Dana knew she’d leave in the mornings by seven thirty and be home no later than six. And Dana didn’t beg or grovel for her old job at the coffee house back. Instead, she found a position at a bookstore and loved it more than she thought she ever could.
Plus, with the new year, she promised herself she’d finally seriously consider going to graduate school, and spent the first few weeks back in New York visiting the colleges closest to their apartment to see what programs they offered that might interest her. In the end it turned out Library Science really was right up her alley. The only problem? The school she wanted to attend was in Queens, a good forty-five minutes away from where they lived in Manhattan.
“This is New York, honey,” Bethany told her one evening as they sat on the couch sipping wine. “A forty-five minute commute is nothing. If that’s where you want to go, then go. Don’t settle for anywhere else.”
Dana shook her head as she leafed through the brochure. “I don’t know. It seems so far away. I thought there’d be something closer, but…”
Bethany rested a hand on Dana’s thigh; they sat so close, their legs were already pressed together anyway, but the added warmed of her fingers curling around above Dana’s knee added to the intimacy of the moment. “Look, think of it this way. One, it’s grad school, so you aren’t going to be going to classes every day. You can do the commute once or twice a week no problem. Two, you’ll be on the subway, so the extra time can be spent doing schoolwork and won’t be wasted. Three, you like this school, right?”
“Better than any of the others.” Dana indicated the other brochures she had fanned across her lap.
“Then do it,” Bethany said. “You have my blessing. It’s only for what, two years? Then you have a master’s and you can get a better job.”
“But I got so mad at you last year for being gone all the time,” Dana tried to argue.
Bethany shook her head. “You won’t be gone all the time. This isn’t undergraduate. You’ll take two or three classes a semester, tops. I know, I looked into it a few years back before I got my job at the Consulate. The coursework is a bitch, and you’re supposed to do an independent study or write a thesis or something your final year, that’s why you aren’t bogged down with general ed courses. There aren’t any filler classes in grad school. You only take what you need to graduate.” Her hand moved up Dana’s thigh, rubbing through Dana’s thin yoga pants. “Just apply and see what happens. You can always change your mind.”
True. So Dana spent the next month or so completing the application, tackling it as if it were just another class assignment and not letting herself dwell on it too much. She didn’t want to think about it until she psyched herself out. Instead, she let her mind drift to Bethany and where they stood on things, because since she’d returned to New York, she wasn’t quite sure what the answer to that was. Sure, they were friends, and sure, Bethany had said she might be interested in being something more, but did that mean Dana was supposed to make the first move? Or should she wait for Bethany to do it?
At the rate they were going, she thought if she waited for Bethany, she’d be an old maid who’d never done anything more than kissed a girl once while drunk before her friend got around to taking their friendship to the next level.
So she was more than pleasantly surprised when she woke on Valentine’s Day to find a heart-shaped box of chocolates waiting for her on the kitchen counter. The note on top read, I’ve made plans for dinner. See you then! xoxo Bethy
Dana had to work at the bookstore from ten to four, but on her way home, she swung by a bodega for flowers, then stopped for a bottle of Bethany’s favorite wine. After a moment of hesitation, she picked up a second bottle, too. Their first kiss had needed a boost of liquid courage, so their second might be fueled with some, as well. She hurried home to uncork the first bottle so it could breathe a little before Bethany arrived. Then she changed out of her work clothes, a flowing skirt and oversized cardigan—which she always felt made her look like a librarian and decidedly unsexy, and into something that might end the night with a kiss. Tight jeans and a clingy black sweater did the trick.
When Bethany came home, Dana met her at the door with a glass of wine in hand. “Happy V Day,” she said, giving her friend a peck on the cheek. Even that quick kiss set her heart racing. If they ever actually did have sex, Dana thought she’d die of a heart attack right then and there.
At least I’ll go with a smile on my face, she thought, struggling to tamp down her grin.
Bethany took a large swallow of wine and sighed. “I hope you mean Valentine’s and not venereal disease,” she joked. “Is this—”
“Your favorite,” Dana confirmed, retrieving her own glass from the counter as Bethany dropped her messenger bag by the door and kicked off her shoes. “Don’t tell me there’s a National Venereal Disease Day out there I don’t know about.”
“Why not? There’s one for everything else.” Suddenly Bethany came up behind Dana and wrapped her arms around Dana’s waist, pulling her into a tight hug. “Missed you. Did you like the chocolates?”
“Ate half already. Kidding.” Dana nodded at the open box on the counter. “Help yourself. I saved the cherry coated ones for you. Warning—one of them does have a thumbprint in it because I squished it to make sure it was cherry before biting into it and having that nasty mess squirt down my throat.”
With a laugh, Bethany reached over, plucked the smushed piece of candy out of the box, and popped it into her mouth. “Then I’ll eat that one first.”
Dana scrunched up her nose in disgust. “How you can eat those, I’ll never know. So…” She turned around to lean back against the counter, and found herself impossibly close to Bethany, whose hips bumped against hers. “Where are we going for dinner?”
The corners of Bethany’s lips curled mischievously. “You’ll see. Let me freshen up�
��don’t eat any more chocolates! I’ll be ready to go in five minutes.”
With a playful tug on Bethany’s coat, Dana promised, “I’ll be waiting.”
* * * *
Bethany had reservations at a small French bistro in the theater district, someplace Dana would’ve never gone on her own simply because nothing on the menu was under thirty dollars. But it was Valentine’s, an evening to splurge, and the place was packed. When the server handed them menus, Bethany took Dana’s away and handed them back. “I’ll be ordering for the both of us,” she said with a smile. “I have something special planned.”
“Très bien,” the server replied. “Can I start you off with—”
But Bethany interrupted him in flawless French. He stared at her a moment, taken aback, before he scrambled for his pad and pen to jot down whatever it was she was saying. Raising her water glass to her lips, Dana snickered into it, amused. She’d never eaten anything French before that she could remember—she was pretty sure French fries didn’t count—but even if she didn’t like the meal, this scene right here was definitely worth the exorbitant cost.
After the server walked away, Dana leaned across the table to tell her friend, “That was priceless.”
“It’s a French restaurant in New York City, of all places,” Bethany said, trying—and failing—to suppress a grin. “He should’ve been prepared for someone who actually spoke French.”
“So what’d you order?” Dana asked.
Bethany’s grin turned enigmatic. “You’ll see.”
First came the wine. Dana didn’t know if it tasted any better than what she’d brought home, but she’d seen the prices on the menu and knew it cost twice as much. Then came appetizers. She’d been dreading them, having heard horror tales of snails in shells and who knew what else, so she was surprised when the server brought large pot of something hot and bubbly to set in the middle of their table. Another server behind him set down a plate of what looked like croutons and vegetables. There were metal skewers on the plate, as if in lieu of utensils.
“Bon appetit,” the server said, before walking away.
Dana looked up from the food to her friend, who watched her expectantly. “What’s this?”
“Fondue. You’ll love it, I promise.” Taking one of the skewers, Bethany impaled a ripe cherry tomato, then dipped it in the pot and twisted it around. “The first course is cheese. Next we’ll get a pot of oil and meat—I got steak and shrimp, I know you like both—and, like, five different dipping sauces. We cook it right here at the table. When that’s done, the final course is a pot of chocolate—”
“Shut. Up.” Dana reached for her own skewer and tried a piece of crusty bread in the cheese. “Let’s skip everything else and go straight to that. What do you dip in the chocolate?”
Bethany shrugged. “Fruit, marshmallows, cakes.”
“Oh my everloving God!” Dana moaned with pleasure as she bit into the cheese-dipped bread. “This is divine! How’d you find out about this place?”
“My boss told me about it,” she admitted. “He swears by it. Best night out ever, he said. I thought it’d be perfect since this is technically our first date.”
Dana arched an eyebrow. “I thought you might’ve forgotten about that. Can I double-dip or no?”
“Go for it.” Bethany dunked her tomato a second time, but it slipped off the skewer and disappeared into the cheese. “Shit. Oh well. There’s plenty more.” She speared a piece of green pepper instead. “And I didn’t forget. I just wasn’t sure how to make the first move.”
Dana waited until Bethany’s skewer was clear of the pot, then dipped her crouton in again. “For the record? This is works for me.”
Bethany smiled around a mouthful of cheesy pepper. “I was hoping it might.”
* * * *
Dinner was divine, though Dana didn’t know what she enjoyed more, the food or the company. The wine wasn’t half-bad, either, though she had to admit it didn’t taste much different from the stuff she bought at the store for much cheaper. Maybe her palate wasn’t that refined, or maybe all the rich food obscured the taste. But she kept her thoughts on the wine to herself, and raved over the food instead.
The cheese dip tasted delicious, and Dana was sad to see the waiter appear to take the pot away once all the croutons and vegetables were gone. Next came a pot of boiling oil. “Ne touchez pas,” he said, followed quickly by, “No touch, s’il vous plaît. Is very hot.”
“God, I don’t really cook,” Dana admitted as another server set down a plate of raw steak and shrimp. The thought holding the meat in the oil long enough to cook it properly was intimidating.
But the waiter had a cheat sheet he set on the table, a little menu with instructions on how long to hold what kind of meats in the oil to cook them perfectly. “C’est facile,” he assured her.
Dana frowned up at him.
“It’s easy,” he translated.
“Yeah, I got that.” She still wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to pull it off.
But Bethany was game, spearing a piece of shrimp and dipping it into the oil. The pot had two small timers on its base, one on either side of the table. Bethany set hers to three minutes. “You try,” she urged Dana.
“I’m going to wait and see how yours comes out,” Dana said, skeptic.
It came out pink and opaque and delicious—Bethany cut it in half and split it with her, and Dana dipped it in the teriyaki sauce, which was fabulous. Maybe cooking wasn’t half as hard as Dana thought it might be. “I can cook like this,” she said, spearing a cut of meat. “Let’s eat here every night.”
Bethany laughed. “Yeah, when we’re rich and famous. I’m not making enough money yet to eat here that often.”
“Well,” Dana conceded, “I guess Valentine’s is a special enough occasion.”
“Actually, it’s our first date,” Bethany said. “That trumps Valentine’s any day.”
Grinning, Dana joked, “Oh good. So I’m not the only one who noticed.”
* * * *
After dinner, Bethany and Dana held hands as they hurried through the blustery evening to the nearest subway entrance. The night sky was deep and clear, and the stars had a crystalline quality to them that Dana always associated with snow, even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight. When she mentioned it to Bethany, her friend laughed. “I think it’s too cold to snow,” she said, hugging Dana for warmth. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get home and out of this weather. God, I am so ready for spring.”
The subway wasn’t heated but at least the wind wasn’t blowing in the tunnel, and in the enclosed car, the combined body heat of the other people helped keep everyone warm. When Dana and Bethany reached their stop and climbed the stairs to the street, they had to bend over to hide their faces in the lapels of their coats. “I hate February!” Dana cried.
Bethany laughed in agreement. “I’d say let’s race home, but I don’t think I could possibly run after that meal we had. I’m stuffed!”
“I don’t think I’ll eat again for days,” Dana added.
Linking her arm with Dana’s, Bethany said, “You better. I planned to make you breakfast in bed tomorrow before I head off to work.”
“Yeah, okay, no.” Dana shook her head, amused. “I’m definitely not going to be hungry at six in the morning. I don’t even know if I’ll be hungry by six at night. Seriously, I’m full up.”
Bethany frowned and snuggled closer to Dana. “So I guess relaxing on the couch with a glass of wine and that box of chocolates is out then, eh?”
“Oh, there’s always room for wine,” Dana assured her.
When they reached their apartment, Dana poured them each a glass while Bethany put away their coats. Then she placed a few candles around the living room—”to set the mood,” she claimed, turning off the other lights.
Dana had to admit the effect of the flickering candles was stunning and more than a little romantic. Though she wasn’t sure exactly how romantic she�
�d be herself on such a full stomach. Already she felt a bit nauseated with anxiety. What if she said or did something stupid this time to screw things up between them? What if she scared Bethany away? What if—
“Well?” Bethany asked, patting the empty cushion beside her on the couch. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
Dana hurried over with the wine, handed the glasses off to Bethany, then went back to the kitchen for the bottle and saw the box of chocolates, so she grabbed that, too. She didn’t know if it was some sort of shield or safety net, but she felt like she needed it between them. If things started to go south, she’d just pop a piece of candy in her mouth. She couldn’t mess up too badly if she was busy chewing, now could she?
She folded a leg under her as she sat down on the couch. Taking the wine bottle, Bethany set it on the end table behind her. When she turned back around, Dana had the box of chocolates open. “Want one?”
“I had something sweeter in mind.” Gently Bethany closed the box and placed it on the floor at her feet. Then she took both of Dana’s hands in hers and gave a little tug. “Come here, you.”
“Bethany,” Dana hedged, suddenly nervous.
With a frown, Bethany said, “I thought this was supposed to be a date.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
Moving closer, Bethany pulled Dana’s hands into her lap and slid her fingers up Dana’s wrists. Her touch was ticklish. “But what?”
Dana frowned and looked past Bethany at the wine glasses on the end table. They seemed so far away, out of reach. Would it look horribly bad if she shook her friend’s hands off hers to grab one—hell, both—and guzzle them down? I want this so much, I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up, she thought.
But would it ruin the moment if she said the words out loud?
Bethany moved her head into Dana’s line of sight and asked again, “But what, sweetie?”
In a tiny voice, Dana admitted, “I don’t want to do anything stupid to mess us up. Last time…”
