The Art of Us

by KL Hughes

  She swore she saw Alex’s hard, curious gaze soften a bit. “Yes.”

  “I just wanted to know if you, if there’s any chance”—Charlee shifted and rubbed at her shoulder again. —“if there’s any chance you feel the same way. I mean, if there’s a chance you might, you know, be thinking about me too.”

  “There is,” Alex said after a short silence, glancing toward the floor. She cleared her throat before meeting Charlee’s gaze again. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. I thought it would be uncomfortable. I don’t know.” Her shoulders seemed to cave a bit. “I see you on campus sometimes, and I think about talking to you. I wasn’t sure if I should.”

  Charlee swore her heart grew three sizes. She smiled and took a step into the daunting space between them. “Alex, do you believe in love at first, um,”—her brow furrowed and she shrugged—“first fucking?”

  Alex gawked at Charlee for several silent seconds before her composure cracked entirely and a loud, echoing laugh spilled out of her. Charlee’s smile stretched until it hurt, and she crossed the room in three great strides. With a thud, Alex’s bag hit the floor as Charlee wrapped a hand around her neck and pulled her in, muffling her laughter with a searing kiss.

  A familiar face greets her as she rounds into the next aisle of the supermarket. Charlee pauses only a moment before letting a wave of laughter bubble up and out. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

  Alex visibly tries to tame a smile. “Because you’ve been following me?”

  They park their carts side by side and linger. Charlee props her feet on the lower bar of her cart and leans her forearms down on the upper, like a child. “Is that right?”

  “Second time this week.” Alex drops a package of crew-cut socks into her cart and leans her back against a shelf. “First at the bakery and now here. You’re following me. It’s the only explanation.”

  “You’re right.” Charlee leans slightly over to peek at all the items in Alex’s cart. “Holes in your workout socks?”

  “Am I that predictable?”

  “Of course.”

  Alex’s response is a one-shouldered shrug that causes her long, frizzy hair to slide off her shoulder and hang in her face. She tucks it back behind her ear again, revealing a small, lopsided smile that makes Charlee’s insides feel loose and liquid. “So, you were saying? Something about me being right?”

  The old metal cart creaks and groans as Charlee bounces on its lower rung. “Oh, totally. I had Cam plant a tracker in your phone.” Her own messy hair sticks out from beneath a knitted beanie as blue as her eyes, poking at her cheeks and making her itch. She swats at it, annoyed. “Now I know where you are every second of every day.” She waggles her eyebrows and sings the theme music from The Twilight Zone.

  Alex snorts. “You should have had her install a spy camera as well. Then you could see my bored expression while I hide in the bathroom at work and play games on my phone.”

  “Who said she didn’t install one? Watching you play games on your phone while you pee is my new favorite kink.”

  “Is this your idea of flattery?”

  “Why?” Charlee narrows her eyes. “Would you be susceptible to my flattery? Because if yes, then yes. If not, then no, I’m absolutely not trying to flatter you.”

  “It needs work.”

  Propping up one elbow, Charlee rests her chin in her palm. Her stomach jitters as she looks Alex over, her head flooding with pictures of the past. She thinks of Alex wrapped in her T-shirt, tucked in her bed, makeup runny and thighs bare. Charlee’s voice comes out soft, intimate. “How are you?”

  A throat clears from behind her, making her jump. An older woman is posted up in the aisle, lips pursed in an obvious sign of disapproval, and her cart only an inch or so away from smacking into Charlee’s ass.

  “Oh, sorry,” Charlee says with a little laugh. “I guess you need through.” She moves her cart up and jerks it as far to the side as she can get it. Once the woman has passed, Charlee steps over to lean on Alex’s cart instead. “Not the first time an old woman has given us the stink-eye. Probably won’t be the last.”

  “True,” Alex says. “We should probably stop occupying the aisle, though.”

  Charlee’s stomach sinks. “Yeah, I guess.”

  As if she can see through Charlee, see inside to the sinking, Alex says, “I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again soon.”

  The words jump from Charlee’s lips before she even considers the consequences. “Or we could plan something.”

  “We should drink dessert wine more often,” Charlee called from the couch. “It’s delicious.”

  The dishes clanked against the sink as Alex scraped them clean and set them in. “It’s a little sweet.”

  “It’s a lot sweet. That’s why it’s so delicious.”

  Alex finished storing their leftovers in the fridge, then crossed the loft to collapse next to Charlee. A pathetic groan escaped her as she untied her pajama pants and rubbed her stomach. She was not entirely sure she would survive the night. “Why did you let me eat so much?”

  “It’s Christmas.” Charlee ran her hand through Alex’s hair and gave it a gentle tug. “Pretty sure it’s tradition to eat until you want to die.”

  They stretched out along the full length of the couch, and Alex crawled up Charlee’s body before dropping on top of her like a stone. She wrestled her arms up under Charlee’s back and buried her face in her chest. Breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of her, Alex nuzzled her nose against a naked swell of flesh poking out the top of Charlee’s tank top.

  “Thank you for putting the food away,” Charlee said, drawing small circles with her fingers in the space between Alex’s shoulder blades.

  Alex could do little more than grunt, her body sluggish and likely on the verge of slipping into a coma. She managed to give Charlee a gentle squeeze, though, and shifted one socked foot up to rub it against hers.

  “Sleepy?”

  Another grunt, then Alex kissed Charlee’s chest. Her voice was muffled against warm skin. “I love your boobs.”

  “Thanks. I grew them myself.”

  “I’m thankful for them.”

  “It’s Christmas, babe, not Thanksgiving.”

  “Best Christmas present ever.”

  “Even better than last year, when I bought us that set of edible body paints?”

  “We ran out of paint.” The image in her mind caused a pleasant tug in her lower abdomen. Charlee splotched with paint and poised on top of her, gasping as the strap-on appendage between Alex’s legs thrust up into her. Alex clenched her thighs with the recollection, smiled, and held Charlee tighter.

  “Ah, and we never run out of my boobs, right?”

  “They’re so abundant.”

  “Does that mean I never have to get you another Christmas present? I can just be topless every Christmas, and that’ll be enough for the rest of our lives?”

  “I vote yes.”

  “Even when they’re sagging down to my knees?”

  Alex laughed into the valley between Charlee’s breasts. “We’ll just have to get a longer couch.”

  “Are you going to pass out on top of me?”

  Her response was more of a yeth than a yes, her lips smashed against skin. She had never been more content in her life, even with an aching stomach.

  “You don’t want to stay up to watch Christmas movies?”

  “Sleep.”

  An easy laugh made Alex’s head bounce lightly atop Charlee’s chest. “Okay.”

  Alex leaned up, just long enough to kiss Charlee’s chin—the moment short and sweet—and then her lips. “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  “If I start to get heavy, just throw me on the floor.”

  “Will do.”

  Alex buried her face in Charlee’s
chest again and closed her eyes. She was on the crest of sleep when Charlee spoke again. “You sure this is all you want for Christmas? Food, boobs, and a nap? That’s it?”

  “Just that and forever.”

  Charlee’s lips pressed against the top of her head in a loud kiss, then the warmth of a fuzzy blanket encased her as Charlee grabbed it from the back of the couch and spread it over them. The last thing Alex heard before falling asleep was a whisper.

  “I can do that.”

  The lights of the miniature Christmas tree twinkle from the corner, dusting the dark living room in a multicolored glow. They’re the only flicker of movement in the otherwise still and silent room—white to blue to green to red to yellow—and Alex can’t bring herself to look away from them.

  “Thank you for the flowers.”

  Kari’s voice buzzes at her ear in a way that makes Alex’s jaw clench and twitch. Her skin feels tender, like her flesh has been peeled back, her nerves made vulnerable. No matter how she tries to snap herself out of the feeling, every inch of her continues to ache and itch. She can still hear the tapping of Charlee’s thumbs, the tapping of her number into Alex’s phone, and she feels exposed.

  She forces the small curl of a smile to her lips but doesn’t shift her gaze from the tree. White to blue to green to red to yellow. “You already thanked me.”

  “I know.” She feels the couch cushions shift, then Kari’s body heat prickles over her tender skin; it’s too close. “But we said we weren’t going to get each other anything, and then you surprised me with flowers. So I just wanted to tell you again.”

  White to blue to green to red to yellow. “You’re welcome, Kar.”

  “Alex.”

  “Hm?”

  An answer doesn’t come for a long time, the silence only punctured by Kari’s gentle breathing next to her. “Are we okay?”

  It’s the first time in nearly half an hour that Alex has been able to force her gaze from the changing lights. She feels like she has grown into the cushions, like there’s foam between her teeth. “Of course.”

  Kari’s eyes appear wet in the glow. “Are you sure?” She reaches out, the tips of her fingers grazing along the line of Alex’s jaw. Just the hint of a touch, like she is checking to see if Alex is real, and Alex feels sick to her stomach.

  The moment feels shrunken and sharp, like a jagged pill lodged in her throat and choking her until her eyes water to match her girlfriend’s. “Of course,” she says again, and the strangled words barely make it through. They come out sore like her skin, like her bones. Like her soul. She feels pulled open and stretched, thinned to within an inch of her life. She’s so tired.

  Alex turns back to the tree, takes in silent breaths of relief through her nose. White to blue to green to red to yellow. She nearly jolts when a hand cups around her cheek mere seconds before the couch dips and Kari shifts fully into Alex’s lap. Warm, thick thighs straddle her own, and her mouth is covered before she can prepare herself, before she can take another breath. Before she can process.

  Forcing her hands to unclench, Alex rests them on Kari’s thighs. She shuts her eyes hard, breathes through the stinging, and tries to let herself fall into this, into Kari’s familiar rhythm. The kiss is full and deep, and Kari’s fingernails scratch at Alex’s scalp in a way that makes her throat rough with sound.

  Kari rubs against Alex’s lower stomach, the material of her jeans made tight and straining around her rocking hips, and Alex whimpers. She shuts her eyes even tighter, and hazy images fizzle and pop in the back of her mind, steadily making their way to the forefront. Alex’s eyes snap open again when she feels hands on her chest and lips on her neck and the wrong name bubbling at the back of her throat.

  “Stop.” She chokes out the word against Kari’s lips, pulling back just enough to catch her breath. “I…”

  “What is it?” Kari leans back. The dancing glow of the changing lights haloes around her head. “Are you okay?”

  “I just—I’m sorry.” Her voice trembles, then breaks. With one shaky hand, she cups her forehead. “I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

  Brushing her hand aside, Kari places her own on Alex’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.” Her hand slides down to curl around Alex’s cheek again. “We haven’t—it’s been a long time since the last time we—”

  “I know.”

  “Not since right after we moved here.”

  Alex wishes she could sink into the floor. “I know.”

  “Is it me?” Kari crumples a bit in Alex’s lap. “Is it something I did? Because if it is, I wish you’d just tell me.”

  “It’s not,” Alex says, shaking her head and wrapping her hand around Kari’s where it still rests against her cheek. She runs her thumb along the soft skin of her inner wrist. “It’s not you. I promise. You’re perfect.”

  Kari leans forward and rests her forehead against Alex’s. “Then what is it?”

  The truth sits bitterly on the back of Alex’s tongue, silent. “It’s just been a rough couple of months. I’m exhausted.”

  “You sure?”

  Alex can’t bring herself to lie any more than she already has, so she tilts up and presses her lips to Kari’s again, a chaste, gentle kiss. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “Okay.”

  When Kari shifts off Alex’s lap, the glow of the tree seems brighter and more blinding than before. She reaches out for Alex’s hand, and together they trudge down the hall to the bedroom. Alex empties her pockets onto the bedside table, her phone and some loose change thudding and clinking against the surface, then strips down to her underwear.

  She ignores the chime of her phone as she pads into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Probably a text reminder from her assistant. Alex is supposed to meet with a florist for the banquet before the shop opens in the morning.

  When she finishes in the bathroom, she returns to find Kari sitting upright in bed and staring down at the bright glowing screen of Alex’s phone.

  “Is it about the meeting with the florist tomorrow?”

  Kari lets out a strangled, bitter laugh and says, “Only if the florist is Charlee Parker.”

  Alex’s stomach bottoms out. “Kari.”

  “‘Can’t wait for dinner this weekend!’” Kari chirps the words, grip tightening around the phone. “Fucking wink emoji.”

  “Kari, it’s not—”

  “It’s not what it looks like?” Kari cuts her off. “Really, Alex? Because it looks like you’ve been spending time with your ex behind my back.”

  “You knew I wanted to try to be friends with her.”

  “And that means making plans with her and not telling me about them?” Kari scoffs. “That means hanging out with her when—what?—when you’re telling me you’re too busy with work to even come home?”

  “I haven’t been hanging out with her.”

  Kari’s voice cracks when she tosses Alex’s phone across the bed and says, “This fucking wink emoji says otherwise.”

  “I promise you I haven’t,” Alex says, throat tightening by the second. She crosses and drops onto the bed, and Kari instantly shrinks away from her. “I haven’t.” She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, with her body. She can’t reach for Kari, can’t wrap around her, so she just curls them into the blanket beneath her knees and hopes the hold will keep her grounded. “We just ran into each other at the supermarket. She suggested we have dinner this weekend, as friends, and I agreed. That’s it.”

  “Then why keep it a secret?”

  “It just happened today.” Tears build in her eyes as she watches Kari curl in on herself, knees to her chest and cheeks already streaked despite her obvious anger. “I was going to tell you.” The words feel heavy in her mouth, heavy like the lie Alex knows them to be.

  “Have your late nights even been at the office, Alex?”

  “Of c
ourse they have.” She reaches out. As expected, Kari smacks her hand away. “I’m not cheating on you, Kari. Please, believe me.”

  “Except you are,” Kari says, the anger draining from her voice. The sudden change is jarring. She sounds more defeated than anything, like she is saying goodbye, and Alex wants to scream. “You’ve been cheating on me since that day in the gallery.”

  “I haven’t,” Alex says, adamant. “I haven’t touched anyone but you.”

  “You haven’t touched me!” Kari shouts the words, another jarring change, and jumps from the bed. Crosses to the far side of the room. She paces, laughing. It’s a sad sound, humorless and hurt, and her body shakes around the hand she holds to her chest, like she is trying to soothe a pain that won’t be soothed. “And the worst part is that I knew.”

  Hot tears burn in Alex’s eyes, scorch down her cheeks. No words come to the surface. She thinks maybe no words would suffice to repair what she can see splintering between them.

  “The more I think about it, the more it makes sense,” Kari says. “I waited for you to make a move. I waited…” She stops and leans her head against the dresser, her back to Alex. “Ten dates, Alex. Ten dates before you ever even kissed me. Before you ever even tried! When does that ever happen?”

  “Kari.”

  Ignoring her, Kari shakes her head. The squeaking sound of her skin rubbing against the wood makes Alex’s fists clench and her eye twitch. The tension in the room is so thick she can hardly breathe.

  “I thought you just wanted to take things slow. You know, maybe you were hurt before. Maybe you were shy.” She lets out another hollow laugh. “But then it never changed. Every step in our relationship.” Her eyes lock onto Alex’s in the lamplight. “Sometimes you came willingly. But most of the time, it was me making the step, me dragging you along. And I tried to tell myself you were just laid-back—you know, traditional. You had trust issues. I don’t know. I told myself that at some point, you would be as excited about us as I was.”

  “Kari, please.”

  “You didn’t even want to move in together. I saw you, the way you panicked when I said we could get our first apartment here, start that part of our lives. It was written all over your face. You didn’t say no b—”