Page 4 of Loving Lauren
Though part of her couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to sit across from someone else—dark hair, eyes that held storms and sunlight in equal measure. She shook the thought away. The park girl was a ghost. Monica was here, real, trying.
The conversation started stilted, both doing a polite dance around the appetizer menu. Then, Monica launched into a story about accidentally buying a foreign language horror novel online thinking it was in English and trying to read it with Google Translate. Sierra choked on her water, laughing. After that, it got easier.
They talked about everything. Monica worked at a veterinary clinic and had stories about cats that made Salem look angelic. Sierra told her about the community center and the one person who drew only eyeballs for three weeks. They discovered they both thought The Haunting of Hill House series was amazing, both agreed books are always better than their movie or TV adaptations, and they’d both cried at the same part of Hereditary.
Monica was smart and funny. When she listened, she tilted her head, making you feel like what you said was the most interesting thing in the world. When their entrees came, they kept talking through bites, gesturing with forks, looking ridiculous.
But, and there was definitely a but.
Sierra waited for the spark and pull she’d heard about that made your chest tight and scattered thoughts. That feeling she’d had standing in the park, watching a stranger laugh with sparrows, unable to look away. Monica was objectively beautiful and kind. They had tons in common. On paper, this should’vebeen perfect. Yet sitting across from her felt like hanging out with Calliope. Comfortable, fun, and platonic.
The weird thing? She had a gut instinct that Monica felt it too. Somewhere between the main course and their splitting a piece of chocolate lava cake, the energy had shifted. Not bad, just different. Like they’d silently agreed they were forcing something that wasn’t there.
Monica said, “So, this is the part where I’m supposed to suggest we go somewhere else to continue the evening, right?”
Sierra let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, probably.”
“But we’re not doing that.”
“No.”
Monica grinned with the most genuine smile she’d given all night. “Thank God. I thought it was just me. You’re amazing, Sierra. Genuinely one of the coolest people I’ve met in forever. But...”
“But it’s giving more book club vibes than date vibes.”
Monica laughed so loud the couple at the next table looked over. “Exactly!”
They paid the check, split it evenly without any of that weird who-pays dance, and walked out into the chilly night air. The streetlights made everything look softer, more forgiving.
“For what it’s worth, I’m really glad you said yes. Even if this wasn’t... you know. You seemed so closed off at first, like you’d built this whole fortress around yourself.”
Sierra blinked. “That obvious?”
“Little bit. But hey, you said yes. That’s something.”
Sierra said quietly, “Yeah. It is.”
They hugged, a real one this time, not awkward at all. Just two people who’d figured out exactly where they stood with each other. Monica headed toward her car, turned back to wave, and that was that.
Walking home, Sierra felt something unexpected. Not disappointment, but... possibility. Like a door she’d deadbolted shut had finally cracked open, just an inch. She knew she was attracted to women, but now she could imagine herself in a relationship with one. That part was clear now. She spent half of dinner noticing the way Monica’s collarbones in that sweater. But attraction wasn’t everything. There had to be something else, something more.
Something like what she’d felt in the park that day. That pull, that certainty. Maybe she was being ridiculous, holding every potential connection up against one fleeting moment with a stranger she’d never see again. But now that she knew that feeling existed, she couldn’t un-know it.
And she’d felt it with the girl from the park. If she could ever find her again.
She passed the park near her apartment, the one she usually rushed through without looking. Tonight she slowed down. The trees were budding, threatening spring’s arrival. A couple sat on a bench, leaning into each other. An old man scattered seeds for the pigeons despite the sign saying not to. Normal life continued around her, a stark contrast to her lonely, self-imposed isolated world.
Three years was a long time to be scared. Maybe she was done with that. Maybe this thing with Monica, though not romantic, had reminded her what it felt like to try. To risk something. To sit across from someone and hope for magic, even if it didn’t show up this time.
She’d know it when she found it. Whatever “it” was. Maybe it was the girl in the park. That is, if she could ever find her again. She felt weird standing in the lamplight, like something was coming. Like the universe was finally done with her hiding phase and had plans she couldn’t see yet. Spring was coming. Changewas coming. Hell, maybe love was coming. The thought scared her less than it would have this morning.
Salem waited by the door, doing his best impression of a cat abandoned for years instead of three hours.
“It was fine. Good, even. Just not... the thing.”
She scooped him up. He purred against her chest, which she took as understanding.
Later, she looked in the mirror again while getting ready for bed. It was the same face as this morning, but something felt different. More open, maybe. Like she’d been looking at herself through a camera lens for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to see clearly.
