Page 100 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Like it was a normal thing to say. Like it didn’t make Talula’s heart swell with hope and helium.

“Okay,” she said. Then, terrified of what raw truth Dahlia might see in her eyes, Talula turned her head away. For a few long seconds, they sat in a strange, tight quiet, close enough to touch but still, just too far.

“Great. Okay. Good.” Dahlia cleared her throat. “Because, we’re friends. And, one day, we’ll do a road trip from here to Baja.”

“A road trip?” Talula asked, puzzled.

Dahlia shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

Talula managed to jokingly demand, “I’m not going unless we take your convertible.”

The tension broke as Dahlia laughed. “Of course!”

They spent the rest of dinner fantasizing about their road trip. Dahlia talked about ghost towns she wanted to see; Talula shared social media feeds of restaurants along their dreamed-up route. Dahlia never went back to her side of the booth, sitting at an angle so she could face Talula while they chatted. They talked until Kanishka dropped their check at closing.

“Thanks, Kanishka.” Dahlia pulled out her card before Talula could make a move. When Kanishka came back with the receipt, Dahlia told the waitress, “You should come to Pine Hollow tomorrow. Have you heard of the Magic Box performances? Or the Samhain festival?”

For the first time that night, Kanishka perked up. “The Satan thing? That shit seems cool.”

“It’s not a Satan thing.” Talula stared the young woman down. “It’s a celebration that’s under attack by bigots who are demonizing me and my community.”

“Yeah! What she said!” Dahlia echoed in solidarity, eyes dancing.

“Whoa, I’m sorry.” Kanishka withered under Talula’s glare. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I swear.”

“You can make it up to her by bringing your social followers to the show tomorrow. Or I’ll tell your auntie you offered less than hospitable service,” Dahlia threatened, her pen poised menacingly over the receipt’s tip line.

“You know I haven’t been hospitable one day in my whole fucking life!” Kanishka cried.

“Then you’d better bring the whole squad.”

“No one says ‘squad’ anymore.” Kanishka eyed Dahlia’s pen, still hovering over the receipt. “Jesus Christ. Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to write a nice review mentioning me specifically.”

“Excellent!” Dahlia proceeded to tip forty percent.

Talula fell asleep in the car on the way home, the aroma of curry and naan clinging comfortingly to her skin. She came to when something pressed against her cheek—it felt so light, like a fingertip or a kiss or a dream. Blearily, she opened her eyes. They were home.

“Thanks for the ride. And dinner,” Talula said.

“Anytime.” Dahlia had a strange, strained smile on her face as she watched Talula unbuckle her seat belt.

Talula stepped out into the cold evening mist, closing the convertible door behind her.

“Talula, wait,” Dahlia called. She scrambled to get out of the driver’s seat, walking to where Talula stood on the sidewalk. “I need to say something to you.”

Talula’s pulse picked up. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Nothing.” Dahlia’s face was serious under the hazy streetlight. She wrung her hands. “There’s just something I need to say. I’ve been saying it indirectly for a while now, but I haven’t been straightforward. Not as straightforward as I could have been, probably because I’m really, really scared of making things weird between us. But I need to say it.”

“Dahlia,” Talula said softly. “I never want you to be scared to tell me things.”

Dahlia sucked in a deep breath. “Just, promise me no matter what, we can still try to be friends? You won’t push me away or disappear on me?”

Talula gave a solemn nod. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Dahlia nodded, eyes wide as a lamb’s. “So, here it is.”

Talula waited, unable to speak for the thick tangle of hope and dread in her throat.