“You courageously took your happiness into your own hands.”
Jules shook her head. “I rejected her before she could reject me.”
“Again, understandable.”
“But not brave!” After a beat, Jules drew a breath. “So, I’m saying, maybe you should at least try the damn cake.”
Catherine exhaled a laugh. “That’s all well and good, but what if things don’t work out? Then someone else comes along and devours the cake, and I have the misfortune of overhearing… their enjoyment.”
Jules hummed. “Okay, I can see why that would be awkward. But you realise that could happen anyway, right?”
Catherine frowned and Jules continued, “I mean, you could resist the cake now, then someone else could come along and eat the cake later, anyway. You’d still feel awkward because you almost had the cake…” Jules’s mouth twitched. “You could taste it on your lips, and yet you didn’t let yourself enjoy it because you were worried someone else might.”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
The sound of the door buzzer jolted them out of the moment. Jules slapped her thigh and got up. “Pizza’s here.” She bopped out of the room, and Catherine took the opportunity to compose herself, straightening her ruffled hair and crumpled clothes.
Miraculously, she hadn’t blown it. Rather than giving up, Jules had taken the time to understand and to reason with her. Andsomehowshe’d calmed the chaos within, talking her down from the virtual ledge — the way Catherine did for others in her day-to-day, but that very few people could do for her.
Jules returned with the pizza box stacked with plates, serviettes and a smaller box on top.
“Right, let’s eat before I start chucking more food metaphors around.” The mouth-watering pizza smellwafted out as Jules flipped the box open on the coffee table and gestured for Catherine to go first.
As they ate, Jules resumed the conversation as if she’d never left the room, taking all the awkward edges off.
“I understand your reservations, Catherine, but I want you to know I’m not a reckless person. I haven’t had many relationships, but the ones I’ve had ran their course — no dramas. I’m pretty much friends with all my exes, not that that’s an exceptional achievement by lesbian standards, but…”
Catherine finished her mouthful, surprised by the urge to weigh in with her own dating resume. “I got hurt quite badly when I was younger. Since then I’ve struggled to let people in, you know?”
Jules nodded as she bit off a long string of mozzarella.
“I have had relationships…” Catherine hesitated. “Perhapssituationshipswould be a more accurate term? Just someone to enjoy a meal with, a conversation and wherever else it led.” She winced, waiting for Jules to react, but she didn’t; she just nodded along as she finished her pizza slice and grabbed another. “But beyond that, I haven’t been very brave with my heart. I’ve just never really let anyone in, and also by that I mean…” she widened her eyes, “I’ve literally never invited anyone into my home before.”
Jules raised her eyebrows. “What, really… no one? Ever?”
“No. I didn’t want anyone else’s mess in my space. Emotional or physical. And so, I’ve always dated on neutral territory, or gone back to theirs, where I could leave if things became… uncomfortable.”
“Well, you haven’t left yet, so…” Jules sat back and patted her stomach. “I hope you saved room for dessert!”
“Dessert?”
A devilish grin crossed Jules’s lips, and she jutted her chin toward the coffee table. “Open the little box.”
Catherine untucked the lid of the small container and peered inside. She wouldn’t have been able to stop the smile rising on her lips even if she’d wanted to.
Two sumptuous slices of chocolate cake sat nestled in the box, adorned with a glossy frosting that she had to resist the urge to dip her finger into. The cake looked delicious but stoked her hunger for something else.
Jules edged closer and almost purred in her ear, “Still want to resist?”
Catherine responded by placing the box down and capturing Jules’s lips with her own.
At the topof the stairs, they tangled together in a slow kiss that tasted of red wine and chocolate buttercream. How easily Jules had dismantled Catherine’s barriers, and how quickly they’d melted into one another. And yet, there seemed to be a mutual desire to take things slow. Neither of them wanted this thing between them to burn too bright and too fast; better to kindle it and let the embers slowly ignite, so they prised their lips apart, and drew an invisible line — boundaries were not yet discussed, but there was an unspoken understanding that they would be.
Jules gently pushed Catherine away before gripping her shirt and pulling her back for one more kiss until all that remained was the sweet torture of anticipation. They hadn’t made any further plans, but they had swapped phone numbers, and that last kiss felt like a promise.
Safely stowed in her own apartment, Catherine slipped into bed and turned off the light. She tossed and turned, the sheets twisting around her legs, each movement a fresh reminder of Jules’s touch. The delicious pressure of Jules's mouth on hers, the heat of Jules’s body as she pressed into her, and the lingering scent of her perfume.
Sleep seemed impossible as she lay there replaying the evening, tallying all the times they’d kissed, her lips still tingling as if Jules had left an imprint. Her body ached with want as she tried and failed not to think about Jules undressing above her. Her brain unhelpfully supplied images of Jules in a swimsuit with droplets of water beading on her alabaster skin.Fuck.
