Page 53 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Celene crossed her arms, urging her to illuminate further.
“My nape,” Skye emphasized. “It’s an erogenous zone. An extremely sensitive one.”
Jesus. Celene would’ve assumed admission to being in witness protection before the truth. She held in a laugh. “I’m turning you on.”
Skye covered her face with both hands. Just so cute as Celene’s blood raced. “We can’t do this right unless we’re honest, I guess.”
Celene tested a joke with, “Will I get lucky tonight?”
“You’re enjoying yourself too much.”
Enjoyment didn’t scratch the surface. The intrigue, the secrecy, the company, the beautiful, reactive woman—Celene indulged in every morsel of this moment. Like Skye’s heavier lids and the pitchy breath of a woman recovering from arousal. “Can we be clear? Am I allowed to touch you there or not?”
Skye’s eyes couldn’t have grown wider. “You’re tormenting me. You told me you love to torment.”
Celene pulled Skye in by the hand, embracing any reason to graze the side of her ear, to feel that tickle of soft hair upon her cheek. Skye’s fingers were just as soft, and Celene stroked them with her thumb. “My flirting style is gentle torture, Skye. You’ve made your bed; now lie in it.”
“We’re unbalanced now,” Skye responded with a tremble. Celene wished she could record and replay. “Tell me where to touch you. To even the playing field.”
An opportune moment to go super salacious. In a charitable mood, Celene met a face that hadn’t fully come out of its haze, giving space. “You found it already. At the ice cream shoppe, when you were teasing Mrs. Locke, you swept your face against my wrist.”
“Really, your wrists?”
“Now you know you’d started it. Please handle that information with caution.”
Skye opened to say more when their table beckoned them (“over here, lovebugs!”), thusly dumping cold water on the tension. The gay couple had brought out a platter of Champagne in colorful flutes for a proper “Yielding Toast.”
June’s sketchy stare made sense now. They were exes; she’d be aware of Celene tapping into a very private aspect of Skye in public.
Quite logical. However, knowing this annoyed Celene.
She followed Skye, and she made sure June saw her openly scope out Skye’s backside and legs, never letting go of her hand.
Petty? Sure. Possessive? Who cares?
Her relationship may have been a front in many ways, but Celene had known Skye longer than anyone at that gay table. That counted for something unique, something that outranked them all.
And it felt glorious.
Skye hardly daydreamed all evening.With good reason, as today had transpired like an illusion from her deepest reveries. Other than that short bit of friction about superfluous clutter, Celene gave her the best date in years. Possibly of all time.
Stimulating conversation, absent of a partner who’d goad her to ‘speak up’ when Skye preferred to silently take in her surroundings. Her friends got along with Celene, but most importantly, her grandmother adored her more than before. Luce looked short of proposing to Celene herself, telling how she sold out of her custom sandwich art faster than last year, five purchases referred by Celene and her skills of persuasion. She let Celene keep the logo pin, an honorary member of the Mosaic Wonderland team.
“That went well,” Skye said as she scaled the uphill path to Celene’s car. A gross understatement.
Celene shook dirt from the point of her nice boot. “It did. You make it easy, though. I’ve always been comfortable around you.”
After the sugilite present, this night took its big turn. Gifts weren’t expected at all, especially from a girlfriend in title only. Celene’s day job required her to point out faults, to tear downpeople who may or may not deserve it. To be the best, to prove a point to herself, and maybe to this fiancée who broke her heart.
Except, Skye saw only sincerity in Celene’s dark, hooded eyes.
On Main Street, Celene’s car winked lights at them, triggered by the car fob. Skye hugged herself against a breeze that wouldn’t let up, watching Celene load the backseat with her bag and purchases. Yielder pride broadened the smile on Skye’s lips.
Celene leaned onto her car, scraping silky hair backwards, just transcendent. More than transcendent when she asked, “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
Stunned, Skye steadied her stance before speaking. “No. Toast Festival is over, so I’ll have a free Sunday.”
“Come by. We can read and have lunch.”
