She shrugged. “I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Really? I thought…”
“That I’d be downing whiskey?” she smirked.
“Oh.”
“I’m not a fan of alcohol. Plus, most people expect women like me to be drinking beer or whiskey or something traditionally masculine. I find it satisfying to disappoint the norms.”
That felt very on brand.
I took a sip, grateful for something cold to hold onto, then my gaze drifted to the dance floor.
Two women were pressed close together, moving in a way that was both sensual and intimate. Their hands were on each other’s waists, their faces inches apart, and as I watched, one leaned in and kissed the other, slow and deep and completely unbothered about the crowd.
I felt my cheeks burn even hotter, but I couldn’t look away. There was something almost… beautiful about it, the ease, the certainty. They weren’t asking permission to be; they just did.
“See something interesting?” Marley murmured near my ear, closer than before.
I jumped, nearly spilling my drink. “I wasn’t… I mean, I was just…”
“Just watching?” she supplied, her tone teasing but not in a bad way.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“First time seeing women together like that?” she asked, and when I nodded again, she stepped even closer.
I could feel the warmth of her body, that intoxicating scent that was uniquely hers, wrapped around me.
“Does it bother you?” she asked quietly.
I thought about it, and really considered the question.
“No,” I said, surprising myself. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s just… different.”
“Different how?”
“They look…” I searched for the word. “Free… they don’t care who’s watching. It’s like they’re exactly where they belong.”
Something switched up in her expression.
“And how does that make you feel?”
For a moment, I didn’t have any response to that, but then I looked at her, standing there in this club full of women, looking completely at ease in a way I’d never seen her before.
“Envious,” I admitted quietly. “I think it makes me feel… envious.”
It slipped out before I could stop it, and once said, it felt too big to take back. Her eyes widened just a fraction, and for a moment, the music seemed to dull around us.
“Envious of what?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
I stared at her, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain she could hear it.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Isn’t that crazy?”
She moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. Close enough that I could see the faint freckles across her nose.
“Maybe,” she said gently, “you should stop being scared and start being curious instead.”
