Page 62 of The Lovers
Cards still in hand, I walk over to open the door. She’s standing on the step. She’s taken her hair out of her ponytail. The hair tie is around her wrist like a bracelet.
I’m overcome with how beautiful she is.
Her snatched waist, the sleek line of her collarbone, her curvy hips and plump apple bottom fitted in her jeans. The way the corners of her mouth tick up even when she isn’t smiling. The three little freckles on her neck in the shape of a triangle.
I’m overcome with how very, very certain I am that I want her.
She moves up to the next step, but not inside. I could lose myself in her eyes, like they’re the real sea and I am a sailor following a siren’s call.
“Hey,” she says, smirking.
“Hey,” I reply, moving out of the doorway to let her inside. She steps up, kicking off her sneakers before walking farther into the trailer.
“This is such a vibe.” It’s clear she’s impersonating me, or Millie, or some other LA influencer hot girl.
“It totally is,” I say, exaggerating my voice and sticking mytongue out at her. She laughs and I am sure it’s my favorite sound in the world.
I spin back to the table to pour her a glass of wine, setting the cards down so I can have both hands free. She unclips her walkie-talkie from the waistband of her jeans and sets it on the table before lifting my empty glass in the air, watching the remnant of liquid swirl.
“You caught me,” I say, handing over her drink. Her fingertips graze mine when she gives back my glass for me to refill. Even this tiny touch is electric. “I was freaking out,” I continue. “I started early.” I tip some more pink liquid into the glass.
“Did it help?” She sips.
“You don’t see a Kit-shaped hole in the side of this trailer, do you?” I take a drink that is decidedly larger than a sip.
“So what you’re saying is, if you’d had some wine back then you might not have run off?”
I nibble my lip, catching her eyes with mine.
“I think I still would have,” I say, walking over to the bed and dropping down to sit on the edge. She takes a drink, but otherwise looks like she’s afraid to move. “What do we do now?”
“It’s like you said: A lot has changed in ten years. So we get to know each other again,” she says. She gives the spot next to me a pointed look.
“All yours,” I reply, taking another sip of wine to quell the quiver of nerves fluttering around in my stomach.
“It’s been a while,” she says, sitting beside me. She smells like citrus soap and the sunny outdoors. Her denim-covered knee brushes against my bare one. My thoughts keep time with my heartbeat.This is it, this is it.“I’m Julia. Wedding planner, control freak.”
“Is that what all the buttons are about?” I ask, motioning toher minty-green blouse and letting my eyes linger for a second on the mound of her breasts in the fitted fabric.
“You should see me on weekends,” she says, grinning. “I roll up the sleeves.”
I giggle at the image. She extends her hand for me to shake, clearly taking this whole introducing herself thing quite seriously. I fit my hand in hers and a new feeling, like a lump of hot coal in my stomach, threatens to make me squirm.
Loving her will be the most dangerously wonderful adventure of my life so far.
“Kit.” I whisper my own name. She doesn’t let go of my hand right away. “Tarot mystic. High-end party entertainment.” I pause to force myself to breathe. “Panic attacks.”
“Medicated?”
“Therapy and hypnotherapy.”
She takes a sip, releasing my hand. Hers drops down to rest on her thigh, the edges of her fingers tantalizingly close to my bare knee. “Still a rom-com fan?”
“Die-hard,” I reply.
“That’s a Christmas movie.”
I roll my eyes. “What about you?”
