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“Don’t panic.”

“But I agreed to abide by fate’s decision,” Charlotte murmured, returning Ali’s embrace, their bodies flush against the others.

“Do you trust me?” Ali asked.

“Yes,” Charlotte said, blue eyes calming by the second. “I do.”

“Good.”

Charlotte sat topless in Ali’s kitchen, black lacy bra a stark contrast against her tanned skin. Her back toward Ali who sat behind her as she straddled one of the kitchen chairs. With great care, she applied the henna to Charlotte’s right shoulder blade. Bra strap pulled over her shoulder, making room for the flowers blooming across her skin, along with swirling vines, dots, and leaflike shapes. A podcast played in the background as Ali worked, only taking breaks when her hand got tired to make a batch of cookies.

Once complete, Ali tugged Charlotte into the bathroom, handing her a handheld mirror.

Her voice was reverent as she took it in. “It’s beautiful, Ali. Perfect really.”

“It looks good on you.”

Charlotte turned, eyes filled with wonder and wanting as she leaned back against the counter.

Lately, the wanting seemed a constant thrum between them, at least for Ali. But sometimes Charlotte would look at her like she understood her, like Ali was wanted and something to be desired. Those were the moments when heat sparked between them.

Her heartbeat picked up as stormy ocean depths held her captive.

Charlotte rolled her shoulders back and Ali couldn’t resist letting her eyes fall to the swells of her breasts, framed by dark lace. Her mouth watered at the sight, fingers tingling with the need to touch. She wanted to erase all distance between them.

A finger slipped behind the waistband of her jeans, pulling her closer. Charlotte’s hand melded to the curve of her jaw, eyes filled with yearning dropped to Ali’s parted lips. They were a breath apart and closing the distance.

The timer trumpeted through the apartment, shattering the haze they almost fell into. Charlotte looked like she might want to find the timer and smash it as her hands dropped down to grip the edge of the counter, a gentle flush dusting her cheeks.

Ali cleared her throat, opening her mouth to speak the same time as Charlotte.

“I should⁠—”

“We should⁠—”

They both huffed soft laughs.

“Cookies,” Ali said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen.

“Cookies,” Charlotte nodded, brushing a nonexistent loose strand of hair behind her ear, turning to grab the camisole Ali lent her.

Ali hurried into the hall, making her way to the kitchen. Hitting the button on the microwave to cease the repeated beeping before pulling the tray from the oven. She took a steadying breath, lips curving into a giddy smile, more determined than ever after their magical day to enjoy every second left with Charlotte.

15

ALI

It was game night, or so she was told. Right before Charlotte coaxed her into the car and drove her into a very nice neighborhood, pulling up to a large home sitting behind an intricate wrought iron gate.

Ali’s palms went clammy as Charlotte led her up the front steps. A little voice in the back of her mind assured her that Charlotte was much too refined to be cavorting with the likes of Ali. A no-name artist, proverbial nomadic orphan, with far too much baggage. Though, she supposed she wasn’t penniless thanks to being the sole survivor of two respectable families. Perfect, wonderful Charlotte could have anyone, someone… easier.

Get a grip!

Ali could have kicked herself. They weren’t together. They were friends. Charlotte would never want anything more. She needed to remember that.

A loud din could be heard from inside the house and Charlotte froze, turning to Ali. “Do you like all animals or just cats?”

“I’ve never met an animal I haven’t liked.”