"I know," I said. "You're not good at pretending to be sober."
She gave a guilty nod of admission and folded her arms tighter. I didn't want her to feel so alone. Given that she was drunk and had an open bottle of vodka, I didn't want her to be physically alone either.
"Did something happen tonight?" I asked.
Faye shook her head and looked away, her face still heavy and sad.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Faye gave a limp shrug. "Being around my cousin makes me feel bad."
Relieved, I stepped toward Faye and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Since we're both confused and you're drunk, how about we watch a movie?" I suggested.
Faye's lip quivered and she looked up at me as though she didn't trust that I would stay and just watch a movie with her while she was drunk. But she unfolded her arms to tuck her hair behind her ears as she gave a timid nod.
"Yeah?" I asked.
She kept nodding and I felt relief spread through my body.
"Can we cuddle?" she asked, so quietly I almost didn't hear.
"I would love to cuddle," I murmured, tilting my head in adoration and sympathy.
She sniffled for a moment longer before giving me a watery, relieved smile.
I persuaded her to eat some toast with peanut butter and drink two glasses of water before putting on her pajamas and brushing her teeth. I borrowed a toothbrush and some sweats as she sloppily took out her contacts. I was worried she'd poke her eye out, but she managed, though not without knocking over a bottle of contact solution in the process.
As we nestled into her bed, her body curved into mine and her sadness seeped into the pillow by my head. We found some recent episodes of Modern Family and watched until I heard her breathing slow, soft and warm like an exhausted kitten. Then I closed her laptop and rolled onto my side, kissing her on the forehead before tucking myself into my side of the bed. I had just turned out the light when she mumbled, muddled against the pillow, “'Night, Riley.”
Surprised but comforted by her awareness of me, I said, "'Night, Faye."
And as I settled my head into her pillow, I realized it was the first time I had ever intentionally spent the night at her place.
When I awoke in the morning, Faye was already up. She had brushed her hair and teeth and was sitting quietly propped up on her side of the bed scrolling through her phone. She looked peaceful without any makeup in the morning light. I wondered if she would kick me out like she had the first time I'd spent the night. I watched the reflections in her glasses for a moment before I moved my arm to her elbow, letting her know I was awake.
"Morning," I said.
"Hey," she said, soft and low, looking down at me. After a moment she set her phone on the nightstand, sliding down the pillows and onto her side so her face was level with mine. "Thanks for coming over last night."
I bit my lip and nodded, remembering how good it had felt to be in her arms, even if she had been drunk and upset.
"Sorry I was such a mess. I won't be drinking alone again any time soon," she said, rolling her eyes at herself.
"Good," I said, looking deep into her eyes, trying to tell her that she worried me.
She mirrored my serious expression for a moment before taking a deep breath. She let it out slowly, searching me. Our faces were just inches apart, and I could smell fading toothpaste on the warmth of her breath.
"I'm sorry for kissing you."
I didn't know what she meant with her apology.
It was quiet for a minute before she said, "But I meant everything I said." My heart raced as she raised her hand and cupped behind my ear as she said, "And I'm not sorry about this."
Then she lifted her head and everything sped up as she brought our lips together.
I felt my whole body exhale. My feet slid through the sheets as our lips slipped together. It was slow and warm. I would have loved nothing more than to sink into it like a hot bath.
But I didn't want to be just another girl to her. Though it made me nervous, I broke the kiss.
"I don't want to be another notch on your bedpost," I mumbled.
Faye cupped my face and stared deep into me as she whispered, "You're not."
I looked at her, wishing with my whole body that she was telling the truth. She held my gaze for another moment before echoing, "You're not, Riley."
And with that, she kissed me again, hungrily.
Grinning like a fool, I curled forward as everything inside me accelerated, elated that she still wanted to kiss me in the clear light of day. When her tongue peeked out to brush my lips, I pulled back, mumbling, "Haven't brushed my teeth..." to which she responded by whispering, "I don't care..." before sealing our lips back together with more urgency.
The fact that she would rather deal with my morning breath than wait one minute for me to brush my teeth felt refreshingly intimate, as though that minute would be torturous after so many weeks without kissing me. Had she not been so sure of that kiss, I would have gotten self-conscious about the way my mouth tasted. But the way her body was responding to me, curling forward and beginning to map my back and arms and stomach with her palm, told me that the taste of my mouth was far from revolting.
My clothes seemed to melt to the bottom of the bed with hers until it was just our limbs draping each other, feeling each other, igniting each other. She was so sensual and electric as she took her usual position on top of me and rocked us together, grunting and gasping with animal intensity. I basked in her lust, thrilled that she had broken through whatever had prevented her from doing this for the last few weeks.
She quickly worked me up until I was panting and gasping in syncopation with her, teetering on the brink of release. She rocked into me harder, determined to push me to the finish, sweating and groaning as though she were as close as I was. As I arched and moaned my release, she kissed me, absorbing and elevating my pleasure, never letting up until I forcefully stilled her. She quieted her body, but her lips on my face were still urgent and attentive, as though she were making up for all the kisses she had denied us in the past weeks. She kissed me until I settled and slipped my hand between us, drinking in the smile that graced her face as I started touching her. In no time at all, she was arching and moaning above me, cursing and wincing and at last releasing.
Afterwards, Faye lay there, relaxed and unguarded for a few minutes before she said anything. I was relieved she didn't make up an excuse to leave or kick me out. Things were finally going the way I wanted them to. I didn't have to spoon without the fork.
"You like working in a bar?" she asked, as though she had been struck by something that never occurred to her.
She didn't know much about my job. Mostly we talked about other things. Our conversations all seemed to blend together, no doubt because of the volume of alcohol we indulged in.
"I do," I said.
"And the gay bar is fun?"
"It's okay," I said, shrugging. "I don't make as much as the male bartenders."
Faye bit her lip and studied a piece of the ceiling. "Do you think you'll bartend forever?"
I shook my head. "No, but I like it for now.”
“What's the best part?”
“I get to see how gay people create communities. It's not like any other minority group. It's a shame girls don't have any places in the city."
Faye nodded and mumbled, "Except for the Lex, yeah."
I'd been to Lexington Club a few times, dragging Justine along because I wanted to see what it was like and because I didn't know where to go to meet girls. But the tiny bar had been so removed from my part of the city, and the women there so standoffish, I hadn't gone back.
"It's hard to meet girls," Faye mumbled.
"You didn't have any trouble meeting me," I teased, nudging her foot with mine.
She didn't respond to that, other than to keep her eyes locked on the ceiling.
I was perplexed. Aside from being assured that I wasn't just another girl to her, I ha
d no idea how she felt about me. I realized that I should have asked for more definition of what we were before getting naked again.
Not ready to leave the peaceful post-sex lull we were in, I went back to thinking about how our meeting had been a chance encounter and how so many other girls who liked girls weren't as fortunate as we were. I wondered if and how I would have met another girl if Claire hadn't left her purse at Jules' that night and sent Faye looking for it, and if I'd be happy with another girl. Somehow I doubted it.
Since we started kissing, all my dates with Faye ended the same way the third had, with her kissing me in her car and me being torn between wanting to kiss her all night and not wanting to put myself in a situation I wasn't ready for. If we walked instead of drove, she would stop at my stoop, take my hand, and kiss me until I felt weak in the knees. I loved it more every time.
I couldn't imagine it felt as good to her as it did to me. But with the way she kept her eyes closed, lips still parted for a moment when we pulled away, I wondered if maybe she did. When a smile graced her face just before she opened her eyes, I knew she was enjoying it as much as I was.
I loved kissing Faye.
I loved kissing her so much that I didn't want to wait until the end of our dates anymore. Sometimes we'd be walking down the sidewalk and I would pull her between two buildings or press her against a wall so I could kiss her silly right then.
On my doorstep, we'd kiss until I felt like I had to decide to invite her up or not, and something always stopped me. Maybe it was what happened with Vance. Or maybe it was just wanting to preserve our courtship, in its blissful, innocent state.
Faye took me to the Farmer's Market on Columbus before ducking into a little restaurant for fondue. When the bill came, she tried to pay like usual. It was flattering, but also made me uneasy.
It's no secret that sometimes when a guy pays for dinner, he's hoping to get laid that night. I had no idea if Faye subscribed to that bullshit, but I was afraid she did. So when she reached for her purse and pushed my card away, I fought it.
"Let me at least pay half," I argued.
"It's my treat," she insisted. "You don't get paid enough at that awful lab of yours."
"It's not about how much I make," I said. "It's about courting you."
At that she stopped.
"How am I supposed to show you I like you if you won't let me pay for dinner?"
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I had accidentally fed right into the script of one person paying for dinner and receiving sex in return.
"I mean," I said, eager to stop the conversation I had accidentally set in motion. "How am I supposed to feel like a worthy date if I don't pull my own weight, you know? I like you, and this is one way for me to show you."
She smiled, and I hoped that meant she was agreeing.
"Would you like to have a glass of wine and talk at my place?" she offered, fingering her empty glass.
"Are you letting me pay?" I said, sidestepping the issue that kept bobbing up like a cork.
Faye grimaced but nodded.
I was relieved but then anxious because I was once again being asked to set a limit. No matter how sexy and beautiful Faye was, I wasn't ready to have sex with her. I wasn't ready to see her naked, nor have her see me naked. I wasn't ready to talk about past partners and testing and my secret turn-ons. I hadn't done that with Vance and regretted it immediately upon waking. I didn't want to do that to myself again.
I studied Faye, trying to figure out if she wanted more than a drink and conversation at her house. We would be able to talk more closely and get to know each other better if we were in a quieter place, but her house also held the threat of possible sex.
I looked down at the tablecloth, folding my elbows on the edge of the table. "A drink at your house sounds nice," I said hesitantly. "But only if you mean a drink. I'm not ready for anything else."
Faye blinked and nodded quickly. "Of course," she said. "Just a drink."
I studied her for a moment until I was certain she was telling the truth.
I felt my whole body exhale. The tension that had just left my body would only have escalated at her house if I hadn't said anything. I would have felt the guilt of repeatedly backing away from her while she made sweet advances that were fueled by nothing but her genuine attraction to me, which was flattering and no cause for alarm. I didn't want to push her away.
She let me pay for dinner, then offered me her arm as we walked out of the restaurant. I felt like we were finally the same height. Since I was throwing out my entire script for dating - I'd only ever had one for men, after all - no one would get to write the new one but me. I would do everything I could to give her the same floaty, bubbling feeling I had in my chest from being wanted. But I wouldn't sleep with her until I was ready.
Faye was the only person my age I knew who had her own place without roommates. I would have gotten lonely without Justine or at least a cat or something. But Faye was more independent than I was.
Faye went into her kitchen and came back with two glasses of red wine, telling me about the vintage and winery she had gotten the Shiraz from. I nodded and pretended to understand what she was talking about.
After that topic quickly died down due to my complete lack of knowledge, she looked at me and bit her lips, unsure for a moment.
"So, I'm not dating anyone else."
Realizing what she was asking me, I smiled. "Me neither."
"I'd be pretty happy to keep it that way, if you're open to that."
Feeling her adoration wash over me, I tried not to blush as I nodded.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said, feeling my face grow warmer.
"Good."
There was a moment of exciting silence as she stared at me, and even though our knees were touching, I wanted to be closer.
But she didn't move, so I leaned into her, feeling the perennial butterflies overtake my stomach. She set her glass on the coffee table, melting forward and bringing her hand up to cup my head. She went slow, meeting my tongue gently and savoring each slip of our lips. When we'd kissed to the point where I was too worked up to continue without breathing, I pulled back.
Even though we were still taking it slow, I was pretty sure I had just entered into my first real, adult relationship. I was so, so happy.
Over our the next few dates, Faye never pushed for more. I started going up to her apartment for a glass or wine or to borrow a book or movie she had raved about every time. We would sit on her couch and talk, bodies twisted toward each other with yearning, sipping wine and smiling like fools until we inevitably started kissing. Our kisses grew bigger and deeper with more probing and smacking and panting and extracting our hair from the tangles of our mouths. I learned how to still her hands when I felt uncomfortable, and explored the planes of her body that I wanted to know. Somehow I always knew to stop before I got in over my head. I would pull away, panting, and smile at her, and she would understand we were going to stop there for the night.
Or so I thought.
One night, after a particularly heavy make-out session where I had pushed her deep into the cushion of the couch before pulling back, she sat up, smoothing her hair and shirt before taking a deep breath and looking at me with uncertainty.
"Are you comfortable dating me?" she asked.
It was not the question I expected, but I answered with certainty. "I love dating you.”
Faye still looked confused. "And the making out and stuff... that's okay?"
Still feeling all aflutter from the ghosts of her kisses on my neck, I nodded.
She gave me an uncertain, fleeting smile. "I was just wondering how you felt about going further."
That heavy feeling settled onto me again and I felt like I had to be the bearer of bad news.
"Sex is awesome..." I said, sounding uncertain.
She gave me a more genuine smile and waited for me to continue.
I took a breath, trying to figure out how to
explain to her why I was so hesitant to jump into bed. It wasn't about her. I was hesitant to jump into bed with anyone.
"I guess, I just... I like getting to know you without bringing in all the pressure of having sex," I said, shrugging to try to keep the conversation light.
Faye nodded, her brow furrowing as she tried to listen between my words. "Sex does add pressure," she said. "But so does not having it."
I bit my lips and tilted my head in acknowledgment. I was certainly feeling the pressure of not having sex at that moment.
"Are you attracted to me?" she asked, unable to hide the apprehension she felt as she prepared for my answer.
My eyes went wide and I almost laughed at the question. “Uh, yeah," I said. "I'm insanely attracted to you. You couldn't tell?" I asked.
She gave an embarrassed shrug. "I don't know what's going through your mind."
I put my hand on her knee to reassure her. "You are probably the most attractive person I've ever met."
Faye smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears as she looked down. She was flattered, but confused. I knew I had to give her more of an explanation.
"I feel like the way most people date is strange. Two strangers try to get to know each other through a series of weird customs where they have to navigate unknown histories and sensitivities while figuring out who pays for things and consuming tons of alcohol, all the while keeping their hopes and expectations in check. In addition to all that, they are expected to get naked and do something that is sometimes fun but can also make them feel crappy and vulnerable. It's just... it's too much for people who don't have a lot of history. Well, it is for me."
Faye looked at me in deep thought, brow creasing. "I never thought about it that way."
There was a moment of quiet and I desperately wished she would tell me what she was thinking. I bit my lip, nervous that I was verbalizing the resolution I'd made. I hoped she wouldn't roll her eyes or sigh in frustration.
But she looked contemplative. After a moment, the expression lifted as she raised her eyes to me.
"Okay," she said. She took my hand and squeezed. "We'll wait."
Wherever the Dandelion Falls Page 19
