She bit her lip. “Do you have any butter?”
I rolled my eyes but smirked despite myself. “There’s some Flora in the fridge.” I untied the plastic bread bag and pushed two slices into the toaster. It smoked a little ascrumbs from the last round burned off. Aware of her eyes on me again, without looking up I said, “You better pop the kettle on… and yes, before you ask, I have milk and tea bags.”
The sound of her throaty giggle made my insides glow like the elements in the toaster I was now staring into.
“Gadby, by the way,” she said while filling the kettle.
“Sorry?”
“Francesca Gadby.” She thumbed her chest.
“Oh, right? Hi. Yes… erm, Catherine.”
I’m not sure why, but I held my hand out for her to shake. Francesca looked past it and widened her eyes at the sight of my footwear.
“Nice bunnies,” she scoffed.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I let my unshaken hand flop back to my side. “They were a gift… from my mum…”
The toast popped up, and I left the sentence unfinished. Francesca held out two mismatched plates, and I dropped a slice of toast on each. We stood side-by-side as I buttered, and she jammed. She hoisted herself up onto the countertop and crunched down on her toast as I made tea. Probably for the best that she’d left me to it. I’d already witnessed her toast-making abilities; I wasn’t prepared to let her ruin a good cuppa, too.
“I couldn’t help overhearing earlier — you seemed upset. Was that your mum dropping you off?”
“Creeping on me earlier too, were you?” Francesca mumbled through her mouthful.
“No, I wasn’t creeping. The walls are thin. Ioverheard?—”
“Kidding.” She swung her feet, and the untied laces of her battered Doc Martens rattled against the cupboard doors. “University was Richard’s idea — he’s my mum’s latest husband. He reckons a good degree will help me fend for myself. Of course, she’s so smitten with the blubbery twat, I just went along with it. But I didn’t realise everything would be so…” her lip curled as she glanced around, “communal.”
“It’s not that bad!” I huffed a laugh as I passed her a steaming mug and leaned against the counter to eat my toast. She fixed her eyes on me again with the same intensity as before. I looked down at my plate, focussing on my food and trying not to think about why her stare stirred something in me.
“Mmm, this jam is delicious.”
“It’s wild hedgerow. I suspect Mother Dearest was trying to assuage her guilt by dropping me off with an F&M hamper.” I watched as she licked jam from her index finger, then picked up her mug of tea and cupped her hands around it. “So, you’re actually happy to be here?”
I nodded as I chewed and swallowed my last mouthful of toast. “Yeah, I’m the first in my family to get to uni…” I cast my eyes down to my sad-looking pink bunny feet. “I want to make them proud, so…”
“The older guy coming out of your room earlier… is he your boyfriend?”
“Who? Jeremy?” I honked a laugh and quickly covered my mouth. “God, no. I’ve known him since I was twelve; he’s like my brother. My dad manages his family’s estate.”
“I see.” Francesca tapped her chipped black fingernailsagainst the mug. She stared into the middle distance, and I took the opportunity to drink her in. The curve of her jaw and smooth white skin — made paler by the makeup she was wearing. My eyes travelled to her full lips, which quirked into a grin, and I realised I’d been sprung.
Francesca levered herself off the countertop and moved towards me, her dark-red lips still grinning. My cheeks burned and I stepped back, rising onto my tiptoes to minimise myself out of her way. She pushed on, confidently taking up the small space. My skin tingled at the brush of her hand on my arm as she reached past me and dropped her dirty plate in the sink.
Oh, she was trying to get to the sink, but —she was standing so close I could smell her shampoo again. Our eyes met, and she opened her mouth slowly.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around campus,” she said.
“I… yeah. I’m like literally next door to you… so, I?—”
Her gaze dropped to my lips, and my heart raced because, for a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me. Instead, she smiled and stepped away.
When she disappeared around the corner, I exhaled. It felt like a sigh of relief, but I recognised my disappointment.I wanted it —I wanted Francesca to take control of the moment and kiss me. I wanted those blood-red lips on mine. I wanted to see if she tasted as fruity as her scent.
Until now, my sexuality had been an abstract concept — a vague awareness that I liked girls generally. But now I desired Francescaspecifically.
In the days that followed,I couldn’t get Francesca off my mind. Even with a full timetable of lectures, my thoughts kept snagging on those dark eyes and red lips. In most of my daydreams, we kissed in the kitchen as I ran my fingers through her soft, fruity-smelling hair. In every daydream, she tasted sweet like jam and hot like tea, but despite all my best efforts to orchestrate a hallway collision, I hadn’t seen her since.
