But then our hearts grew too rapid and our bodies ached too much, and we had to be closer. Although everything inside me was racing, my footsteps were slow and cautious, giving her time to back away.
But she didn't. She stayed rooted with one hand on the pole, the other loose and graceful by her side.
I took another step. Nothing flickered across her face. Not a single doubt or fear. I felt her reaching for me, in her way, as though her free hand extended toward me.
I took another step, and another, until I was inches from her face. I saw her chest quiver with an unsteady breath and wondered if she was about to move. But she didn't. She stayed perfectly still. Her feet, her hands, her eyes fixed on me. The only thing that moved was her throat at she swallowed. I was ratcheted up so high, I thought I would break.
But before I broke, she darted up onto her toes and fixed her lips with mine. She put her hand on my shoulder, steadying herself as we started kissing. It started slow, allowing the buzz to stream through our bodies as we relished the relief of finally kissing as we were meant to kiss.
Because we were meant to kiss. We were meant to do so many things, but kissing was the thing we'd both known we needed to do tonight. We'd known to the extent it was painful. We'd been leading up to this kiss for months. Maybe even years, before we'd known each other. We'd been meant to kiss since we'd been born, and we were finally kissing. I never wanted it to end.
We both wrapped our arms tighter around each other, feeling the little wrinkles in our clothes mesh into our skin as we tried to get closer. Our tongues and lips grew so sloppy and ravenous, we started to giggle, only to have our giggles drowned out as we sank back into the passion and relief that came with finally kissing each other. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until the studio grew dark and I knew we'd missed our dinner reservations. We swayed, gripping the pole for balance from time to time, smiling into the crooks of each other's necks and jaws when we needed to breathe, panting with relief, humming with satisfaction. We were so relieved at finally kissing, nothing else mattered.
Finally, our legs grew tired of standing. Faye sighed and leaned farther forward. Releasing the tightly strung tension between us had proved more exhausting than we thought.
"You," she breathed, "are a really good kisser."
I grinned, pleased that she was so satisfied by my lips alone. "You're not so bad yourself," I offered, helping her settle into my shoulder.
She hummed and said, "I'm kind of tired now..."
I patted her back and said, "And you're not the one who taught pole this evening."
She drew back and her eyes widened. "Oh my god, you must be exhausted." She scanned up and down my body, checking to make sure I was okay.
I shrugged. "I'm okay."
"You should at least sit down," she said, gesturing toward the leopard print couch.
I drew her back into me and hummed, "Will you keep kissing me if I do?"
She nuzzled back into my neck and said, "Definitely."
"Good."
We stood there for another long moment before she extracted herself and led me over to the couch, fluffing the two shabby pillows.
We kissed until my stomach growled loud enough for Faye to hear and curse herself for starving me. Before she got up to drag me out the door, she looked at me, studying me for a moment before she said, "I never imagined kissing a girl would feel so... normal."
I smiled at her, loving every layer she shed in front of me. Watching her blossom was the most beautiful gift I could imagine.
"And at the same time," Faye continued, "Extraordinary."
Her candor left me speechless, so I just smiled and hoped I wasn't blushing.
"Sorry we missed our dinner reservations," Faye said, tucking her hair behind her ears with a sheepish grin.
"I would miss a hundred dinners for that."
Faye tucked her chin further to hide her smile. "Do you still want to eat?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling my stomach pang with hunger. I was starting to wilt, but kissing Faye propped me up. "I wanted to take you somewhere nice though."
"We have time," Faye said. "From what I've seen of this date so far, I'm pretty sure I want another one."
I beamed back at her. "What do you want to eat?"
"Pizza," Faye said, looking embarrassed, like it was a silly suggestion.
"Shall I find a good Italian place?" I asked, looking around for my phone to figure out a restaurant.
"There's a place down the street, right?" Faye asked.
I knew the place Faye was referring to. It was a little hole in the wall with only two or three tables to sit at. They mostly served takeout. It wasn't a place I'd ever take someone on a date. But Faye was asking, and I wanted to do whatever she felt like.
"Yeah. It's not very fancy though," I said. "Just slices on paper plates."
"That sounds perfect," Faye said. She smiled at me for a moment before reaching for my hand, clasping it in her own. "I don't need anything fancy."
"Okay," I said. "Let me change."
She nodded and I couldn't resist leaning forward to peck her on the cheek before getting up, hurrying away so I wouldn't be dragged back toward her lips and spend another hour making out on the couch.
As I picked up my bag, I felt overwhelmingly modest. Had it been Justine or any of the regular studio girls, I would have just whipped off my shirt and stood there in my sports bra for a second while I found a clean shirt. But with Faye, I didn't want to do that. I picked up my bag and changed in the bathroom for the first time.
When I emerged, dressed in jeans and a purple t-shirt, Faye was looking at the framed pictures on the walls of the studio's most accomplished dancers.
She turned her head to me and smiled. "These are amazing," she said. "I can't believe how strong these women are."
I tried not to puff up my chest too much with pride. "We are pretty strong.”
Faye turned back to a picture of a woman doing an Inverted Archer and pointed before looking back at me. "Can you do that?"
Biting down a proud smile, I walked closer to her and pointed higher up to a framed picture of me doing a variation of the pose she was asking about,
"That's insane," Faye said. "You're, like, a professional athlete."
"If that's what you want to call it, I'll take it," I giggled. Then my laughter died down, and I said quietly, "The girls here don't know I'm a stripper."
Faye turned to me and her smile fell too. "Why not?" she whispered.
I shrugged. "Anya warned me not to tell them."
Faye's face shifted into a look of uncertain compassion. "It's not up to her, is it?"
I shrugged again. "It's probably for the best."
Faye bit her lip and nodded, but she didn't look convinced.
Wanting to change the subject, I put my hand on Faye's arm and jerked my head toward the door. "Shall we go?"
Her face relaxed and she followed me out into the night air.
We made a quick stop by my car to stash my dance bag before heading down the street. As we walked, I felt a creeping uneasiness. I didn't like being so far away from Faye. Twenty minutes before, our bodies had been smashed together on the couch as our lips and tongues twisted together, trying to get closer. Now I felt like there was a canyon between us.
But I knew better than to take her hand, so I stuffed my hands in my pockets and said, "If things were different, I'd hold your hand."
Faye looked at me in surprise and said, "Different how?"
I shrugged. "If we weren't in public or if this wasn't new to you."
Faye bit her lip and frowned, looking down at the sidewalk for a moment. Then she pulled my elbow until my hand came out of my pocket and slid her hand into mine.
"New isn't fragile," she said.
She squeezed my hand and I felt like I could shoot up into the sky and fly.
Chapter 19: Quiver
Once I realized that Faye wasn't ready to be an official thing, I backed off. I still broug
ht over extra cookies and texted her to see if she wanted to watch movies with me and Justine. I still laughed at all her jokes and came just as hard when we had sex. She seemed to exhale when she realized I was giving her room to breathe.
Our dating script was different, starting with the fact that we weren't going to call it dating, even though we both knew we were. Saying it out loud was just too much for her right now. I could allow her all the baby steps in the world if it meant that every once in a while, she would be open and blooming for me and hold me without saying anything. Her trembling little steps weren't linear or predictable, and sometimes she stumbled away and fell. But she always got back up.
I noticed she took more and more steps forward when I didn't approach or encourage her. One evening, I was awakened by the buzzing of my phone on my desk and realized I'd been asleep longer than I had intended to nap. That was okay, though, since I wasn't working that night. Between bartending at Jules', being with Faye as much as I could, and working on my business plan for Michael, my sleep schedule was way off. But I was happy, for the most part, so I didn't mind being a little tired.
I answered the phone and sounded groggy as I closed my eyes and settled back into the pillow and said, "Hey."
"Hey," Faye said. "Are you sleeping?"
"Yeah," I said. "But it's okay. I should get up and go over my proposal one more time."
"Oh." Faye sounded disappointed. "If you have time later, I made too much food."
It was an invitation to come over for dinner. Knowing she wouldn't outright ask me, I tried to wake myself up. "Okay. I'll be there in five." I could always wake up early and go over my business plan in the morning.
"Bring your proposal. I want to see it."
Smiling, I mumbled that I would before prying myself out of my bed and shuffling around in the dark for a sweatshirt and shoes. I printed out a copy of my proposal, squinting at the glare of my computer in the dark, and dashed through the drizzle outside to her house.
When I arrived, it was obvious that she'd intentionally cooked for two. She never made salad and pasta and garlic bread and dessert for just herself. She wanted to make me dinner but wasn't ready to call it a date, so she tried to make it look like an accident.
I didn't let her know I knew. I just smiled extra hard and sat down at the makeshift table in the center of her floor: she'd set up an upside-down laundry basket with a sheet on top of it, and pillows for us to sit on. The only thing that would have made it more obvious we were on a dinner date would have been if she put a candle between our plates.
"Looks delicious," I said, grinning.
"Thanks," Faye said, avoiding eye contact as she settled into her place across from me.
As I picked up my fork, prepared to pepper her cooking with compliments, I realized that we weren't drinking either. She really was making a huge effort to face something that scared her.
"Are you excited for your meeting tomorrow?" Faye asked, picking up her fork.
I nodded, mouth already full of salad. I chewed quickly and said, "Nervous, but mostly excited. I like Michael a lot."
"Good," Faye said. "What kinds of events did you put on the schedule?"
I tilted my head toward where I'd left my proposal on her desk, then said, "I tried to focus more on single's events. He said they already have a lot of couples who come in and he wants to mix things up. So stuff like speed dating and screenings of cute LGBT films and TV shows. Things that are structured enough to not require tons of alcohol for people to get comfortable."
Faye gave me a confident smile. "I'm sure he'll love it."
"I hope," I said, worrying that I'd have to keep working at Jules' forever if he didn't like what I'd come up with.
It was quiet for a moment as Faye and I stared intently at our food. It felt awkward to be sitting there together on what was obviously a date when we weren't going to call it dating.
"How was your day?"
Visibly relaxing at my course correction, Faye nodded. "Pretty good. Almost done with my big project for Research Methods."
"Good," I smiled. That project had been weighing on her for weeks. I asked her more about it and then our conversation meandered into safer topics like music and money and her plans for after her exams. She didn't say anything about spending time with me, but when she said she just wanted to "relax and enjoy the city," I could only hope she meant more time snuggled up with me. I desperately needed to be close to her whenever I could.
"I keep meaning to tell you,” Faye said. “I went to the student health clinic the other day. I got my results back this morning and everything is good. So we're good."
I was surprised by Faye's initiative, but I supposed I shouldn't have been. She was better at showing rather than telling. I suddenly felt bad that I hadn't done her the same courtesy.
"Thank you," I said. "I'll do the same tomorrow."
Faye nodded. "I'm glad you're cool with this," she said, almost mumbling.
Unsure what she meant, I said, "Cool with what?"
Faye tucked her head down. "With being just friends."
My stomach clenched and I paused with my fork in midair.
I'd never agreed to be just friends. I'd agreed to be in a non-traditionally-defined monogamous relationship with her. There was nothing platonic about us. I didn't know how to object to her assertion that we could be boiled down to just friends. I had told her I loved her. Saying she was glad I was cool with being just friends trivialized what I'd said.
"Um," I said, tripping over my words. “Don't — don't say…" But I didn't want to tell her not to say something. We were friends in addition to everything else. "It's more complicated — I mean, we still have sex."
"Yeah," Faye said. It was clipped and anxious.
The weirdest change that had happened since we'd talked and agreed to be exclusive was that Faye would balk if I tried to initiate sex when she was sober. If she was tipsy or if she initiated it, everything was fine. But if I approached her for sex in a situation like this, she would get spooked and shut me out.
I didn't like not being able to hold her hand in public or introduce her to my friends as my girlfriend, but the sex thing bothered me most because sometimes I didn't know how to express things without at least kissing her.
Realizing I was venturing into dangerous territory that could make her shutter up for the rest of the night, I veered in another direction.
After dinner I hung around long enough to show her my proposal, but then excused myself to go stew in my sadness. Faye was a mess of contradictions, and no matter how much I loved her, it was draining to be around.
The following day, I met with Michael at his café, which I'd scoped out while drafting my events calendar. It was enough space to do cool things, but not too big that it lost any intimacy. I liked it.
I was so amped up and nervous about the interview, I don't remember much of it, only that my face hurt from smiling. My words were a little more forced and twice I stuttered, but overall, I thought it went pretty well.
Before I knew it, the interview was over. I looked at my watch and saw it had been an hour. Had I been talking for that long? It seemed like fifteen minutes. Michael gave me an unreadable smile and a handshake and told me he'd call me.
I didn't know what that meant. I was much more nervous now, worried I'd embarrassed myself in front of Dave's boyfriend. I walked out on shaky legs and called Faye. She answered immediately.
“How'd it go?" she asked, anxious.
"I'm not sure."
"Want me to come over?" Faye offered.
I was surprised by her offer. She preferred to spend time at her house where we had total privacy, but it was sweet that she was willing to come over and comfort me. I knew she could tell I was nervous.
"I was going to go to the clinic…"
"You can go tomorrow."
"Okay."
"I'm on my way," Faye said.
We arrived at my apartment at the same time, and walked upstairs qui
etly together. She asked me a few more questions about my interview, and I gave distracted answers. I couldn't stop replaying fragments of my interview over and over. My head was getting too noisy and I was getting agitated.
There was one thing I knew would settle me. But I knew if I asked for it directly, she would retreat.
So I looked at her with pleading eyes and took her hand gently. "I'm kind of worked up," I mumbled. "My brain won't shut off."
Giving an understanding nod, Faye led me to my bedroom and proceeded to undress me. We had some pretty good sex before falling asleep in my bed. And although I would have loved to have looked into her eyes and told her how I felt about her, I soothed myself with reminders that once it had been a big step for her to spend the night at all. There was no way we were just friends with benefits. We were something more.
But it became harder to believe that when other people were around. It stunned me when Faye gave me a quick peck on the lips at the door in front of Justine the next morning. I was so happy, I could have tackled her or pushed her up against the wall, undoing her pants again to show her how grateful I was that she was trying. But her eyes flickered to Justine and her smile became nervous, so I just squeezed her hand and let the soaring feeling envelope my chest for the next hour.
I realized that it was okay to ask for sex as long as I didn't make it specific to her. I could text her and tell her I was horny, and she would invite me over, or I could show up at her apartment with a guilty smirk. I could ask if she was busy, and if she wasn't, I could walk over to her place and immediately lie on her bed, stretching out in a manner unrelated to muscle soreness. But if I made it about her or about wanting to be close to her specifically or hinted at lovemaking instead of sex, she would tense up and make excuses to not get naked with me.
Which I learned to live with, though it was far from ideal.
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