She decides to rigorously change her approach to uncover Riley’s possible debatable intentions.
“I don’t know, Riley. If you want to keep convincing yourself that it has nothing to do with you, maybe you shouldn’t have been so damn good at kissing.”
Charlotte watches the tips of Riley’s ears turn pink from the corner of her eye.Score.
But Riley is still quick on her feet. “If it only took a single kiss for you to realize that you want more, you’ve either been stupidly ignorant or completely blind. Besides, that’s the second compliment you’ve given me in three minutes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to woo me.”
For the lack of a better comeback, Charlotte mocks in a high voice:“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to woo me.”She finishes with a deliberate eye roll. There. Solid argument if she’s ever heard one.
“Secondly,” Riley says pointedly, steering the conversation back to Charlotte’s initial question. “I don’t aspire to be a gateway lesbian, so I don’t usually date baby gays. And I definitely don’t flirt with straight women.”
“But you flirted with me!” Charlotte calls out, immediately regretting it. She watches Riley suck in her cheeks.
“Exactly.”
Eager to change the topic as quickly as possible, Charlotte asks: “So, baby gays? What does that mean exactly?”
Riley’s jaw drops as she stops walking, and she looks at Charlotte like she’s a present on Christmas morning. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”
“What?!”
“I get to teach you the lesbian vocabulary?” she screeches, clasping her hands together. Charlotte waves a dismissive hand. “Please. Please? You’re gonna need it!”
She considers it, because this is the kind of stuff she wanted to reach out about anyway.
“Only if I get to ask questions,” she finally says.
Their sandwiches now finished, they’ve reached the far end of the lake where a pile of rocks connects the pathway to the shore. Riley leaps onto one of the rocks and keeps climbing down, all the way to the water.
“Sure. Ask away,” she says as she turns around to look at Charlotte. She beckons her with a friendly smile.
Charlotte scrunches her nose at the idea of climbing down the rocks with her heeled boots on. But, not wanting to look like a coward—or worse, boring—she starts descending anyway. “Just so you know, that includes personal questions,” she emphasizes, almost slipping but catching herself. Riley reaches out when they’re close enough, and reels her onto the same rock she’s standing on.
“I expect nothing less,” she says encouragingly. She points to a flat rock behind Charlotte. “Let’s sit.”
Riley sits down on a rock across from her, tucking her right foot in under her body. An amused smile appears around her lips as she watches Charlotte try to hide her discomfort upon sitting down on the damp, mossed surface.
Charlotte decides to start on the offense. “Alright.” She slaps her thighs with both hands. “One. How do you know the difference between wanting to be friends with a woman, or wanting to date them? Isn’t that confusing?”
The sound of Riley’s laughter as she shakes her head rings through her body until her brain melts. “Okay, so you really won’t be going easy on me. Fair,” she chuckles.
Charlotte manages to hide a proud glare and wiggles her shoulders.
“How often do you want to rail your friends?” Riley suggests helpfully. Charlotte scoffs and counters: “I can have sex with someone without wanting to date them.”
“True, true,” Riley says, placing her arms behind her and leaning back. “But then there’s a little thingcalled romance. For me, at least, it’s the thing that differentiates my friends from the people I fall in love with.”
Charlotte licks her lips, imagining Riley on a bed covered in rose petals, fairy lights around the room, and soft sultry music. It doesn’t feel right at all.
“Then what does romance feel like to you?” she asks, more genuine this time.
Riley stares at her for a few seconds before letting out a breathless laugh. “Damn, Charlie. Don’t spare a girl.”
“Name’s Charlotte.”
“My bad,” Riley says solemnly, closing her eyes and placing a hand over her heart. “If I grovel, would you ever forgive me?”
Charlotte’s lips curl up into a challenging smirk. “Don’t change the topic. Is the question too personal?”
