“Yes,” Alexis nodded. “And while I tried to force myself to be truly invested in the one-on-ones with the other contestants, to give everyone a fair chance, to deliver on this redemption arc the producers wanted…” Alexis let out a sharp, uneven breath. “I was already falling… little by little… day by day… in love with Birdie.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I can’t believe you just said that on national television,” Birdie whispered in Alexis’s ear. She had her arms wrapped around Alexis’s neck, her cheek pressed right up against her cheek. One camera zoomed in on their faces and caught the small crinkle at the corner of Birdie’s eye as she smiled. The other panned out, showing them in their full embrace, and then another focused on the lavender bouquet lying forgotten between them.
“I had to,” Alexis replied softly. “Do you remember when you said you didn’t know that much about me? And that you wanted to revisit it later?”
“Yes.”
“Well, here’s a little tidbit: I am a deeply regretful person. You wouldn’t think so after what I did last season,” she laughed. “But I am. And if I don’t say how I feel right now, if I don’t actually put it all out there even if it means I’ll be hated by all the lesbians out there, I’d probably end up overthinking it for the rest of my life. And I’d never forgive myself for not being honest with everyone. For not being completely honest with you. For not telling you how I feel when I had the chance to. I love you, Birdie Sinclair.”
“I love you too—”
“OMG, can you turn that off?” Birdie said, rolling her eyes. She was behind the counter, sorting through a pile of new hardcover sapphic romance releases she would later slide into the front-facing display. “You’ve watched that clip like a million times already. It’s getting annoying. I’m getting annoyed.”
“It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jade said dramatically, pushing herself away from the tall shelfof historical fiction. She climbed onto the short step Birdie used to replace the art pieces on the wall every week and reached for a book with a pastel-colored spine. Birdie couldn’t see the title of the book, but she knew Jade wasn’t going to read it. She preferred the comment sections on Instagram for her daily reading. “You know I made Lucinda watch it.”
Lucinda was Jade’s mother. When Birdie had first got back from Provence two weeks ago, Jade had thrown her a little ‘welcome back’ party at her apartment, complete with mini cupcakes decorated with tiny edible roses. She’d told her how she and Lucinda had watchedThe Sapphic Matchtogether after dinner and how they’d taken shots every time Vivian said the word ‘ladies.’
“She thought the part where you started crying, like an ugly cry, was terribly romantic. Lucinda said she’s proud of you. And she also wants you to ask Alexis where she got that dress with all the crystals. It was gorgeous.”
Birdie could hardly remember that dress. In fact, she couldn’t remember much of that final ceremony at all. One minute she had stood stiffly, heart hammering, watching Alexis pick up that lavender bouquet, and the next, the bouquet was on the floor, Alexis’s arms were wrapped around her, and she was whispering I love you over and over again. There had been clapping in the background, and Elise tossing her arms up. As her arms were raised up in the air, she had yelled, “They’re going to fire me, just like they fired Marla.” And Vivian just stood there with a wide smile on her face. Then there was the frantic packing of her bag, the plane ride home, Alexis and her sharing a cab, the city lights blurring past the window, and that surreal, dizzying feeling of being exactly where she was supposed to be. It all went by in a haze. Birdie could just remember snippets: Alexis suggesting they meet up for coffee the next morning, Birdie demanding a sleepover instead, and the way her bodyfelt on hers when they were lying naked in Birdie’s bed. It was only the morning after they’d spent their first night together back in Portland that the haze began to lift, and Birdie started processing it all.
“What time is Alexis picking you up?” Jade asked, walking over to the window display. She picked up a sapphic romance paperback that hadn’t done as well as Birdie had hoped and flipped through the pages. “Where are you going? Is it a surprise?”
Birdie glanced at her watch. It was nearly seven p.m. Usually, she closed the store at six, but Alexis had said she’d meet her here, which meant they were probably headed somewhere nearby. “I have no—”
The door swung open before Birdie could finish. Alexis walked in. She was wearing black jeans, a ribbed olive tank, and Common Projects sneakers. In her hand was a denim jacket in case the spring weather turned chilly, as it often did in the evening. Birdie felt that familiar flutter in her stomach, the one that never failed, no matter how many times she saw her and would probably continue forever.
“Ready to go?” Alexis asked once she’d said hello to Jade, who had returned the greeting with an eyebrow waggle and a wink.
“One second,” Birdie said, grabbing her handbag. Jade asked to be a third wheel before Birdie promptly said no. She then scooted her out of the door and locked up behind her.
“Where are we going?” Birdie asked, falling into step beside Alexis. Birdie slipped her hand into Alexis’s, their fingers weaving together like a zipper gliding shut. She let Alexis take the lead.
Alexis lifted Birdie’s hand and pressed a slow kiss against her knuckles. She let her lips linger a second, then two, before she smiled. It was a smile that had Birdie weak at the knees.“There’s a new place around the corner,” she said. “It’s called Juniper. It’s Moroccan-style cuisine. Thought we could give it a try.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had Moroccan food,” Birdie said.
“I think you’ll fall in love with tagine the same way you fell in love with me.”
“You mean by resisting it?”
Alexis laughed so hard she nearly tripped over the uneven sidewalk and had to squeeze Birdie’s hand painfully tight to steady herself. “Exactly.”
They were barely at the end of the block when two girls in college sweatshirts and tiny jean shorts, leaning against the wall of a store, glanced at them and frowned. And then, as if something clicked into place, one of them pointed in their direction.
“Hey!” the one with the curly bangs blurted, clutching her friend’s arm. “You’re Alexis Wolf from that dating show.”
“The Sapphic Match, Elle,” the other girl corrected, wide-eyed. “It’s not just a dating show. It’sthedating show, and that’s fricken Alexis Wolf.”
Birdie could feel Alexis stiffen up beside her, her shoulders drawing back like she was bracing for a wave and not sure if she had to jump over or dive under. The thing about being recognized was that it was never neutral. There were the ones who squealed and fawned and wanted selfies. And then there were others who thought Alexis was a grade-A asshole for doing what she did. You never really knew which it would be.
“You’re badass,” curly fringe said, grinning dreamily. “I really admire you for standing up for love.”
“I don’t think you should be admiring—”
“Thank you so much,” Birdie cut in quickly, tugging Alexis down the street before Alexis could launch into a point-by-point lecture on why no one in their right mind should everadmire her, why, even despite coming clean and being honest, she was still the villain of her own narrative, and why every lesbian in America had the right to pelt her with tomatoes.
