by Galli, Lynn
Unlike with the men on similar occasions, my heart thumped erratically and something of a ruckus roared through my ears. I felt hot and cold and trapped and free all at the same time. Never once had I experienced this strong of a reaction to anyone. Desire had always been an elusive emotion for me. If I were being totally honest, I’d have to admit that I’d never felt it. Until now.
I wanted this. I wanted her to kiss me like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. Not because I wanted another woman to kiss me for comparison. No, I wanted this woman to kiss me. This incredibly smart, sexy woman.
I should do something. Give her a signal to tell her that she could turn her desire into action. If I looked down at her lips, maybe that would be enough of an invitation. Instead, I stared at those eyes, feeling her breath barely touch my face from her spot inches away. Why couldn’t I move my eyes from hers? Give her the simple go ahead, or better yet, tip my head forward and capture those sensuous lips to taste what I knew could become addictive? Perhaps it was my stupid sensibility stopping me; or maybe my concern for her that if we kissed and I felt nothing, as per usual, I’d hurt her desperately. God, I hate being sensible almost as much as I hate being emotionally bereft.
Before I could break the spell and reach for my jacket, Raven stepped back as suddenly as if she’d been yanked by some unseen force. She shook her head and offered my coat, not meeting my eyes. When I took the garment, she waved and hurried around to the driver’s side of her car.
“Goodnight, Raven,” I called out weakly as the door was closing. Her tires didn’t exactly squeal as they left the parking lot, but the escape was no less dramatic.
Blessed Twice
There were about a million other things I could be doing right now. Playing tennis, reading a mystery, calling my son at summer camp, working out, rollerblading, base jumping, banging my head against a low hanging beam, and all would be more pleasant than my sixth first date. Cripes, my friend Caroline knew a lot of women. A lot of women who were so wrong for me.
This one’s name was Polly, and she worked as a court clerk. After her third cup of coffee—I’d learned never to commit to anything that would last several courses—I could sum up Polly’s personality with one word: drama. Or, issues. Or, get me the hell out of here, please!
“And then I was, like, ‘what do you think you’re doing with my stuff, bitch?’ I mean, like, can you believe she was walking out on me and expected to take the one and only gift she, like, bought me in the entire two months we’d been together? I was, like, ‘you didn’t even pay me rent for two months, you’re not taking my Maroon 5 with you.’” Her pretty green eyes stared expectantly at me, asking me to agree.
Still stuck on some of the other intimate details she’d shared prior to talking about a massive blowout over a piece of plastic that costs twelve dollars, I merely nodded then shook my head. I didn’t know if she expected me to say, “Yes, I completely agree, even though you’re a loon,” or, “No, that’s just awful, especially since there’s no way you could ever replace such a priceless item. Unless, of course, you walked into any music store, or better yet, downloaded the songs so no one can walk out of your life with her love and your CDs.”
“You’re so easy to talk to,” she jabbered on after I’d apparently given the appropriate response. “I can’t believe Caroline never introduced us before. I’m having so much fun.” Yeah, because drinking coffee is a riot a minute. “So, like, what’s your story?”
Well, I’ve never used the word “like” as a verbal pause, I’ve never moved in with someone after one night together, and I’ve never considered a CD worth the effort of an argument. Oh, and I now deem dating a soul draining experience.
“Briony?”
I looked up and felt my stomach plunge as swiftly as if I’d been pushed out of an airplane. M was standing by my table, iced coffee in hand on her way out. She was in casual clothes, showing a hint of midriff, envious calves, and just the barest promise of cleavage. “Hey there, M.” I hoped she caught the relief in my tone. Wow, she looked good. No makeup today and her hair was a little more chaotically styled but wickedly attractive. Beyond, actually, more like hot. Yes, hot suited her just fine. Why wasn’t I on a date with her? Oh, crap, Polly. “This is Polly. Polly, my friend and colleague, M.”
Polly must have picked up on my blatant interest in M, because the next thing I knew, she was telling her, “We’d invite you to join us, but we’re on a date.”
I didn’t know who cringed more, me at the idea that this could really be counted as a date or M at the rude dismissal. My eyes snapped up to hers in apology. Before I realized what I was doing, I made the ASL sign for “help.” It was one of a few words I’d learned for when my son spent time with his hearing impaired best friend. This was the first time I’d ever used it, and I never imagined I’d be using it for evil instead of good.
“Pardon the intrusion, but I thought we said two o’clock?” M asked me with the perfect amount of urgency and innocence. “I grabbed a table up front and left all the lecture notes and business plans there. It’s a few hours of work, and I’ve got plans tonight, but if you need a little more time, I understand.”
“Is it two o’clock already?” I brought my wrist up to check the time on my watch. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Polly. I didn’t mention this work thing because I never thought we’d still be here. You just made the time fly by.” Two hours that I’ll never, ever get back.
She beamed at my compliment but disappointment showed through. “Caroline said you were a workaholic, but we can work on that.” She reached for a hug, which I made lightning quick, and finally, the sixth date on my path through hell was over. Polly banged through the coffeehouse doors with all the drama she’d expressed during her diatribe.
“Thank you for saving me.”
“Think nothing of it.” M said it like she believed it when I was considering erecting a life-sized shrine and lighting a candle every night. Her eyes darted to the door as her customary introversion returned. “Nice running into you, Briony. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“Tell me about those plans you mentioned,” I blurted before she could disappear.
“I lied,” she admitted with a shy smile. “I figured if I didn’t give a limited window of time, she might think she could get us to postpone our work meeting.”
Strangely, I felt more relief hearing this than getting out of my date with Polly. “So, you’ve got nothing going?” She shook her head. I smiled and stepped toward her. “You do now.”
I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my Saturday than with this beautiful, enticing woman. Not really a date, but far better than anything my friends could set up for me.
Full Court Pressure
“Do you miss Washington? Leaving anyone special behind?” Darby’s blue eyes sparkled.
“I used to be okay with living in three different cities while I played because of the offseason coaching or the overseas leagues, but ever since I retired, I’ve really taken to living in one place. Washington was great, but it’s nice to be back on the west coast.”
“You must miss your friends? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Both?”
Both? Yeah, I’m a hussy like that. “I do miss my friends. I had a great coaching staff working with me. Kristine, James, and Rebecca were close friends by the time I left. They were pretty angry that I made this move, but since Kristine is now the head coach, they’ll get over it.”
She laughed softly, the sound rolling over the table in featherlike waves. “You managed not to answer the question I wanted you most to answer.” She smiled broadly at my furrowed brow. “Boyfriend or, please let it be, girlfriend?”
My mouth nudged ajar. Something about her question didn’t seem like idle curiosity. And certainly not the way she asked if I had a girlfriend.
“C’mon. You’re among friends. I’ve always had a vibe about you.”
“Vibe?”
“You know, a gay vibe.” The statement came out with certainty
. I didn’t have time to be startled. “You can tell me, Gray. I’m sure you know I’m a lesbian, and you have to know I’m interested in you.”
Holy…
“You’re my fantasy woman, have been for decades since I first met you. So, spill, tell me you’re going to make my fantasy come true.”
…Hell. I was someone’s fantasy? Hers? This beautiful woman whom everyone liked and so many lusted after? Did the world turn upside down as soon as I crossed into the Pacific Time Zone? “Fantasy?” I managed with a dry mouth.
“I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I?” A touch of worry marred her expression. “My sisters always tell me that I need to tone it down, but I can’t help it with you. After all these years, I finally have you in the same city and permanently. So, I’m putting it all out there tonight. I didn’t want there to be any confusion about what I want.”
“What you want?” GAH! Could I please stop repeating everything she said?
“You.”
One word, sounds like sue, only less litigious. She wants me. Damn, that even sounds weird just thinking it. Why would she want me? I’m not a person who brings out wanting in people, or I never have been, or I’ve been oblivious to it my whole adult life.
Jeez, I mean, this was only my eighth date, if this was a date. And I know, eight dates, right? But, like I said, when you’re really good at something, other things fall by the way side. My love life foremost among them. Since I’m pretty convinced I was born without a sex drive, I hadn’t ever felt like I’d missed much. Why date when I felt nothing? Okay, this time, maybe I didn’t feel nothing, maybe this time was a little different, and it wasn’t because she was a woman when the others had been men. This time was different because it was Darby. Was she my fantasy woman, too? Honestly, no, but only because I didn’t have fantasies of that nature. I must be broken. Everyone else had fantasies, right? Why didn’t I? Maybe I just needed to think about it. I could try to fantasize about her. Hmm, that might work.
“Gray?”
Try later. “Huh?”
“Shocked?” She smiled understandingly, and my, was it a beautiful smile. “I wanted to be upfront about this. I want more than just friendship from you, have for a long time.”
“This is…I mean, that’s very flattering.”
“Oh, God.” A panicked look came over her face. “You’re not going to say that you’re flattered but it’s not me it’s you, are you? Just lie to me and say you’ve got a boyfriend. I can handle unavailable but don’t crush my ego by telling me you’re the biggest lesbian on the planet, but I do nothing for you.”
My head shook, trying to snap all the whirling thoughts to attention. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s better than turning the tables over and racing from the restaurant, I guess.” She reached across and grasped my hand. The touch felt comforting. “Just tell me I have a chance?”
“I haven’t thought about dating in a while.” If she knew how long of a while it might put a stop to this before it had a chance to get started. “You’ve thrown me for a loop. I’m still trying to catch up.”
The smile that surfaced on her face brought out sparkles in her blue eyes and added definition to her sleek cheekbones. “I’m still in the running, then. Good. Enough pressure for tonight, we’ll save that for our second date.”
Second date? In way over my head here, but it felt pretty good.
Finally
Kiss her!
The order screamed so loudly in my head I had to look around to make sure no one had spoken it aloud. All I could see was a bustle of deplaning passengers jostling each other while they moved in a slow herd toward baggage claim. All movement stopped when I spotted Quinn emerging from the jet way. My step left to avoid a businessperson halted suddenly as the plea to kiss her activated paralysis.
This crush of mine was getting ridiculous. And yes, I’d started to admit that it was a crush not just friendship. It was so unfair to Quinn. I’d hoped by now that these feelings would have subsided. The euphoria of a new friendship usually wore off within a month, but after four, I felt all the telltale signs of romantic feelings for someone.
I pressed back against a railing to fight the impulse to push through the passengers. I clenched my teeth, attempting to bite down on the need to be next to her. I had to stop this. Quinn is a friend. Quinn is a friend. Quinn is just a friend. A mantra, that would solve it for sure.
Just then, Quinn twisted her head back as if someone had called out her name. Almost immediately, she locked eyes with me and hurried to finish signing a few more autographs before extricating herself from the group.
“You made it! I’m so glad to see you.” Her voice overflowed with joy, and my heart soared at the sound. She pulled me into a hug.
The command to kiss her pounded away inside my head like a throbbing headache. “Same here.” I kept my response clipped for fear that my crazy thoughts might subliminally make their way into my speech. I couldn’t manage anything else until she released me.
“What luck. I get to hang out with you till you board the plane.” Quinn turned us toward the gates with a hand on my back.
Reaching back, I found her arm and stopped us from advancing. Heat seared my fingertips and threatened to send the flush to my cheeks. I pulled her hand away as casually as I could manage without letting my friend know how certifiable I was. “That’s all right. You’ve got to be tired. Grab your bags with the rest of the team and go home. Rest a little before practice this afternoon.”
“But I haven’t seen you for almost two weeks, and you’re gone for four days.” Her eyes showed hurt, even if her face held a hopeful smile.
Tears threatened my perpetual calm, forcing me to blink harshly. Intense emotions accompanied her everyday kindness, and I found it almost too much to bear. My mind issued commands to keep my hands from attacking this woman in the middle of the airport.
“We can catch up when I get back. Thursday night? You don’t have a game, and I’ll have recovered from my trip.” I hoped my statement wouldn’t appear as a blow off. Quinn needed the rest, and I needed to still these feelings I’d been having for months.
“Thursday night? It’s a date,” Quinn said casually. Words like that obviously didn’t have the same effect on her. “I’ll go grab my bags then if you’re sure you won’t let me keep you company?”
I felt longing slip into my glance, but I packed it back in and said with a light tone, “No. Enjoy your week, and I’ll see you Thursday.”
With that, she squeezed my arm and nodded her head goodbye. Scooping up her carryon with ease, she walked down the corridor toward baggage claim, her posture unencumbered by the dismissal. I wasn’t as fortunate. My heart felt like a rodeo bull had been set loose inside it, wildly kicking, twisting, and flailing to buck the rider trying to control it.
