Page 43 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Celene’s reply hinted at a satisfied customer. “It’s an impressive finish. They’ll start on the deck next. I have a lot of requisites on precisely what I want.”
“I don’t doubt this.” With a quick tiptoe, Skye spotted the fuchsia plant, obscured but alive on a table near the new sliding window doors. Celene must take it home after every visit.
She actually cared about it.
“Did you want something to drink?” Celene asked directly beside her. Slippery and soundless in similar, but differently colored flats than last time.
Skye squeezed the side of her bag. “Ah, sure. Whatever you’re having.”
Celene exuded poise, a quality inescapable as Skye trailed behind her. She slid the glass door open enough to fit them; its movement as muted as hers. “Are you sure? I could be taking shots of absinthe for all you know.”
“You’re right. Someone will have to fish me and my bike out of a ditch.” Skye’s smile faded as the summer house’s interior transported her to simpler years. While details on the furnishing remained fuzzy, she could recall the farmhouse-style layout with the parental bedroom on one side of the living room and the hall of smaller rooms on the other.
The thematic eagle décor made appearances as statues on the mantel or wooden wall art. Celene had begun modernizing, yet Skye respected the components left untouched. Some of the integrity, history would hopefully remain for years to come. “The old meets the new. I like it.”
Celene shut the door behind them. “Thanks, this place needed a major facelift. Does the absence of a television bother you?”
Swiveling in place, Skye shrugged. “Hm, no. I hadn’t noticed.”
“Good.” She went to retrieve a bottle of cold-pressed juice from the refrigerator, shaking its rosy contents with a distant, soft look. “The sketches you sent me are nice enough to mount as-is. You took no art electives when you were pursuing data analytics?”
Skye’s parents would’ve thrown a party if she’d scrapped her major and gone the artistic route. Resting her forearms on the bar, she shrugged. “Not many. Anything artsy I picked up through practice, being around my grandparents.”
“Ah, you’re a natural.”
“I guess.” She fought to ignore the definition in Celene’s stomach or the tightness of her leggings as she rummaged in a cabinet for two tall glasses. Considering it safer terrain, Skye asked, “Were you out jogging earlier? Or...or doing yoga?”
“This is dragonfruit, strawberry, and lemon. Any allergies?” Celene pushed a glass into Skye’s open hand after a head shake. A hint of the impishness from their ice cream date touched her smirk, paired with a pointed, raised brow. “Today I did morning meditation, yoga. No jog. Why?”
The ‘why’ sent Skye ablaze before she sipped. “Oh. Nothing. I...you seem very disciplined and...” Her eyes spoke for themselves, in a quick up and down at her form-fitting garb. “Your outfit.”
Celene didn’t touch her juice. She watched Skye drink. Intently.
It pinned Skye in her position, leaning on the side of the bar rather than reasonably sitting on any of the chairs. She couldn’t retreat, however, even when she finished her tangy, sweetportion with a light cough. Without speaking, Celene offered her full glass, and Skye gulped from it, too.
Come to think of it, Celene used to stare like this as a kid. Skye, one to zone out anyway, had accepted this trait.
As adults, everything changed. The starer now had curves and hips and a crop top and the knowledgeable countenance of a woman who probably had admirers lined around the block.
Celene broke her silence right as Skye set the second finished glass on the counter. “If we’re going to do this, we have to resort to candid, frank honesty.” She stated that as a fact, continuing without needing approval. Mirroring Skye’s position, elbows meeting the edge of the bar, Celene sighed deeply. “I’m attracted to you, Skye. I wouldn’t have been open to thisat allif I weren’t.”
Oh. What?
Did Celene have more juice? Because Skye’s mouth forgot the rest of its functions.
“I’ve done a profane amount of self-reflection on my travels,” Celene muttered, shrugging. “Ordinarily, my life is tightly managed. But when it comes to women...” Her polished nails—in eggshell this time—brushed the long sleeve’s hem where Skye’s fingers tapered out. “I lose myself.”
Shakily, Skye tilted her hand to make the smallest, most hesitant connection—fingertips interlocked with Celene’s. Time to relate to the human and not the outer package, no matter how her breath still hitched. “I’m not the most present girlfriend. I drift off, I daydream. All my exes were too nice to tell me. Especially June.”
It’d be a great moment for Celene to smile, as Skye needed the reassurance, but that stayed elusive. She hadn’t moved her hand, though, saying, “I wouldn’t be too nice for that.”
Skye chose to laugh by herself. “I’m sure.”
“As much as I love my apartment and neighborhood, the noise level is outside my control. I couldn’t see the appeal of thisdull, ugly house at first.” Celene searched the broad, open plan. “Turns out, I confused the tranquility for dullness, and it’s not as ugly anymore. It’s going to make a new family very happy.”
Squeamish at the thought of Celene leaving again, Skye realized this fake dating thing went deeper than two old friends and a mosaic sculpture. “Are...are you familiar with safe words?”
At last, Celene let Skye in on a carefree laugh. It was rather soft, edging on breathy and throaty. “I am. How intimately are we talking?”
