“Or maybe I don’t have any reason to be nervous,” she said.
“Maybe not,” Delilah said.
Claire’s eyes narrowed, and Delilah wondered if she was putting the pieces together.
“It’s always a risk,” Claire said, “talking to another woman in a bar. Not that I do this all that often.”
“A risk?”
Claire nodded. “You could be straight as an arrow.”
Delilah laughed but gave nothing away. “And you’re not?”
“Oh.” And the blush was back. “No, not at all.”
Delilah remembered when Claire came out as bi in high school. It was a glorious day, a beautiful, rainbow-hued day. Not that Delilah had any delusions that Claire would ever go for her back then, but Delilah had figured out she liked girls in the seventh grade, and the fact that Claire Sutherland was a baby queer too? Young Delilah savored the knowledge, tucked it away, used it to give her confidence when she got to New York, when her ghoulish Bright Falls days were far behind her and she realized she was pretty damn charming and could flirt like hell, that other queer women and enbys actuallylikedher.
“Hmm,” Delilah said, resting her chin in her palm. “That’s quite the predicament.”
Claire laughed again. It was a nice sound. Completely without pretense. She wasn’t playing a game here. She was just...cute. “You’re not going to help me out?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, I’d appreciate you throwing me a bone. I’m not very good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Flirting.”
Delilah made her eyes dramatically wide. “Thisis you flirting?”
“Oh god,” Claire said, dropping her head into her hands.
“I’m kidding,” Delilah said, taking a sip of her bourbon. “I know exactly what’s going on here. You’re trying to recruit me for a cult. I get it.”
Claire lifted her head and laughed, eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “You got me. I’ve got the Prophet out back ready to shave your head and brand a unicorn on your ass.”
“A unicorn?”
“It’s a queer cult.”
This time Delilah laughed. “Well, in that case, sign me up.”
Claire’s lips parted, just a little. “Really? So you’re...”
She trailed off, waiting for Delilah to fill in the rest. Delilah leaned in until her mouth was right next to Claire’s ear, her knees brushing Claire’s hips. She smelled like a meadow, like fresh air, some delicate flower just underneath. Delilah made a show of breathing her in. Or maybe it wasn’t even a show. This woman was funny and sexy and adorably unsure of herself, and for a split second, Delilah forgot who she actually was.
“I’m very,veryqueer,” Delilah whispered, releasing the words slowly while her bottom lip brushed the shell of Claire’s ear. The other woman inhaled softly, the sound fluttering low in Delilah’s stomach.
Claire pulled back, her dark eyes all pupil. “That’s very good to know.”
“Isn’t it?” Delilah said.
They watched each other for a few moments while Delilah thought about how she was going to play this. TheWhat’s your name?question was coming any moment, and she was having too much fun to ruin it with the truth. But before she could make a decision, a familiar voice cut through the country song twanging from the jukebox.
“...where’s Claire? Tell me she did not get hung up babysitting Josh.”
At the sound of her name, both Claire’s and Delilah’s heads swung toward the voice. Astrid stood about ten feet away, shucking off her raincoat, no doubt Lululemon or some shit, her mouth running a mile a minute to a redhead—Iris Kelly, the final member of Astrid’s triad—who was already sitting and drinking some clear liquor.
