In her head, Tasha ran through all the pictures on Ro’s profile. Her hat. Her sparkling eyes. The wild twist of her hair. The blush of her cheeks. And that smile. She thought about every email and message and chat they’d shared. Every fandom they’d gushed over. Every memory — office gossip, past relationship stories, exchanges with friends — they’d shared. She thought about every time she’d imagined what Ro might be like in the moments building up to this date.
“Tasha?”
Swallowing hard, Tasha looked over at Ro, who’d taken off her hat and coat and was shaking out her curls. Two slim, short, blunted horns peeked out from the silken cloud atop her head. Her shoulders and arms were covered in soft-looking wool a shade or two lighter than her hair. Her eyes, which had been dark brown, now seemed more like dusk falling over the city. Endless umber burned and blended with plums and wine, while the promise of sunlight hid beneath the dark.
Magic.
Shyly, Ro smiled, the expression on her face like a resigned ta-da. She tousled her bronze hair nervously. “Hi.”
Tasha felt her stomach clench, not unpleasantly. Though still a bit weakly, she smiled back. “Hi.”
Ro coughed and rubbed her arms, disturbing the tight, short curls, too casually. “Not too weird?”
Tasha took in the woman sitting across from her. Sure, Ro did not look the way she had in her profile pics. But, even with her limited dating history, Tasha knew that was true of most non-magical people too. And, while she didn’t look the way Tasha had expected, she somehow looked exactly how she should.
This was Ro.
So, Tasha shook her head. “Not too weird.”
Ro gave a small laugh, her shoulders sinking a bit in relief. “You say that now.” She cocked an eyebrow and laid her hands palms-up on the table. “Want to see if that’s still true after seven years or so?”
Tasha tilted her head curiously. “It won’t be real, though, right?” They’d only just met.
“It’ll just be in our heads, but it’ll let us see what our future could be like, if we were to go down that path.”
Did she want to? Even just imaginatively?
They’d just met, but if she did this, Tasha would see what getting to know Ro would be like. She’d literally be able to know, on the first date, whether things could work out or not.
Tasha held the bespelled teacup in her hands. “The magic only lasts an hour?”
Ro nodded.
“After that, your world goes back to the way it was.”
She could do this. See what it was like. A part of her — a part she rarely let herself listen to — always wondered if there was a scenario that would feel intimate enough. If she’d ever experience the kind of love she longed for, if it even existed.
If there was ever a chance to take a leap of faith, wasn’t this it? Looking around the strange, beautiful, amazing cafe, how could she not at least want to believe?
So, taking a deep breath, Tasha sat up straight. Setting aside the cup, she held out her hands, so clammy and cold she wanted to apologize. But instead, she pressed her palms against Ro’s and said, “Show me.”
* * *
It was the curse of threes.
Ro watched Tasha worry her bottom lip between her teeth and crinkle the menu in her shaking hands. Ro shook her head, wondering how Tasha could still be so nervous after three months of dating.
She’d been like this on their third date too. Tasha had been terrified that Ro would be expecting the traditional Third Date Kiss. Instead, very aware of her fears, Ro had spent the whole night warming Tasha’s cold, clammy hands in hers. It wasn’t that Ro hadn’t wanted to kiss Tasha. But watching the credits roll with Tasha’s warm, soft hand in hers had felt more intimate than most of the kisses she’d shared with others.
She’d hoped that would have wordlessly reminded Tasha that they weren’t on a timetable. They didn’t have to play by anyone’s traditions.
Yet, three months later, here they were.
Ro wondered if they’d have an awkward three-year anniversary dinner as well. Now that was a thought. Honestly, she didn’t think she could handle it if they were still dealing with this after another three years. Because, underneath the neurotic worry over numbers, she knew the real underlying anxiety.
Apparently, in the dating world, every milestone happened in threes. The kiss on the third date. Sex after three months. Marriage or moving in by the three-year mark. A bunch of rules that apparently everyone was expected to know and adhere to. And that Tasha could not.
Ro had deliberately picked a restaurant they’d been to several times. A familiar space that might not be their place, but could be one day. Sighing, Ro pried the menu from Tasha’s grip. “You know what you want. You always get the avocado turkey melt, light mayo, with tater tots instead of fries and either a strawberry shake or a Coke. Either way, you’ve been looking at that menu too hard for too long.” She reached out and laid her hand palm up to her. “Talk to me.”
Tasha frowned and stared at Ro’s hand, unsure. “I know that you said we’re okay.” She swallowed and clutched her hands together tightly. “That you’re okay, but…” She shook her head.
After years of being told the opposite, it would be hard for someone like Tasha to believe.
Ro didn’t know how to fix that. Wasn’t even sure she could. She was pretty sure this was one of those things Tasha had to change for herself. But Ro hoped she could help. “What are you afraid of?” Because Tasha clearly was.
Tasha scoffed. “What?”
“What are you afraid of?” Ro reached for the easy answer. “That I’ll leave if we don’t follow some arbitrary timetable sold to us by romance novels and Cosmo?”
Tasha let out a small chuckle. “So we’re okay?”
Ro smiled. “We’re okay.”
“And you’re not disappointed by waiting?”
You’re not disappointed by me? Ro could hear the unasked question hanging over them. How to answer? She didn’t want to lie, but the truth felt terribly complicated. She laid her hand on the table again, open and inviting. She waited until Tasha took it, pressed their hands together palm-to-palm, before smiling. “I want to kiss you, Tasha. I want to hold you and caress you and, yes, I want to sleep with you. And I have since we were just avatars on a dating site to each other.”
Tasha’s face scrunched and she started to slip her hand away.
But Ro held firm, still gentle yet with purpose. She held still and waited while Tasha decided whether to tug her hand away or stay. She was glad when Tasha took a steadying breath, held her hand, and looked into her eyes. Ro smiled. “But, more than that, I want you to want that.” That was the truth. Ro felt it, fully, in every word. She let her thumb caress circles over the back of Tasha’s hand, feeling her bones held together beneath the soft, resilient skin. “I want to wait for that.”
For a moment, Tasha’s hand tensed and her face creased with worry. “What if that never happens?” Her voice was so quiet.
Because that was what really scared Tasha. Oddly, it didn’t scare Ro. Maybe it should. There were no guarantees that it would happen. But it could. And neither of them could know. Until they did.
Ro swallowed. Okay, yeah, that was a little scary. But that just meant it mattered. And that was good, right?
Ro looked at their entwined hands. Yeah, this was pretty good.
“I’m willing to stick around to find out.” She wrapped both their hands with her other one. “Are you?”
Tasha bit her lip, but nodded and smiled. “We’re okay.”
* * *
Sitting on the couch, both lounging across the overstuffed armrests, Tasha could tell Ro’s mind was not on the TV show. She turned to sit cross-legged on the broken-in cushion and faced her girlfriend. “What are you thinking?”
Ro shook her head. “Nothing. Just a weird thought.”
Tasha arched an eyebrow. “About what?”
Ro rolled her eyes. “You really want to know?”
<
br /> That felt evasive. It made Tasha wonder if she did. She nodded but held her breath when Ro let out a heavy sigh.
Ro shrugged her shoulders awkwardly before turning to face Tasha too. “I need more from our relationship.”
More? Tasha let out her breath slowly. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Ro had lasted longer than most — had been more than beyond patient, unlike anyone else Tasha had known. She shouldn’t be surprised.
This shouldn’t hurt.
Ro held out her hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I like being with you and I don’t want to change or rush you.” She sighed and slumped her shoulders. “But I need something more. I need to know that we’re moving forward. That, no matter how nice things are with us right now, there’s more for us. I’d like to see if we can come up with some kind of compromise.”
“Like what?” Tasha crossed her arms over her chest, having heard this all before. Did Ro want to just try sex, sure that Tasha would feel differently about it, while in the moment? Did she want her to push past her reservations and just fake it till you make it her way through?
“Do you touch yourself?”
Tasha straightened. “What?”
Ro blushed, but repeated, “Do you touch yourself? And not just, you know, here.” She made sweeping gestures over her torso, from breasts to lap. “But everywhere.”
“I…” Tasha felt her cheeks flush. “I’m not really comfortable with that.”
“With talking about it?” Ro leaned forward. “Or doing it?”
Tasha shrugged. “All of it.”
Ro pursed her lips and nodded, like she’d been expecting that answer. “Do you want to stop talking about it?”
Yes. Except. “I don’t like talking about it, but I feel like we should.”
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
Tasha knew that. But she could feel all their unsaid words swirl like a cold, dense fog between them. Was that really doing either of them any good? Better to just have the fight, then deal with the consequences. If this was the end of them, well, better to know that now too. Tasha braced herself. “Just say it.”
Ro sat quietly for a long moment as if struggling with the same fog Tasha felt. “You told me that you aren’t comfortable getting intimate with someone unless you really know them, right?”
Tasha nodded.
“Then don’t you want to get to know yourself?” Ro’s hands fisted and she dropped her gaze. “I’m afraid to touch you. Because I don’t want to cross any of your boundaries. I keep waiting for you to tell me what you’re comfortable with, but it just occurred to me that maybe you don’t know. And both of us not knowing what feels good to you isn’t a great place to start building intimacy, right? I hate the idea of you having to tell me if something I’ve done feels wrong; I’d rather hear you ask me for what feels right. I mean, wouldn’t you like to know what feels good to you?” She peeked up at Tasha. “I know I would.”
Tasha opened her mouth, but promptly shut it. She’d never really thought of it like that. For so long, touching herself, like so many other things, had felt like one more expectation, one more obligation she couldn’t meet. One more so-called natural, normal part of being human that she didn’t understand.
Sure, she’d tried it before and felt more confused and frustrated than anything. So she’d stopped.
But maybe instead of thinking of it as trying to figure out what the fuss was, what other people got out of it, maybe she ought to just think of it as trying to understand herself more. Think of it as getting to know herself.
“No pressure.” Ro turned her attention back to the screen. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Like I said, it was just a random thought.”
One that, without any obligation or baggage weighing it down, Tasha thought might be worth exploring. She sat back on the couch and stared at the TV screen. Maybe. Without turning away from the show, she cleared her throat. “I’m not sure how I like to be touched.” But, Ro was right, she would like to know. “But, until I do…” She took a deep breath. “Can I, maybe, touch you?”
She felt the cushions shift beneath her as Ro straightened on the couch. “How would you like to?”
Tasha’s face burned with embarrassment. This was why she’d always avoided conversations like this. But Ro was right; nothing would ever change unless she did. “I like holding your hand.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ro reach out a hand to her.
Tasha grasped it, feeling the tension between them begin to ease. “This is okay?”
She knew Ro wanted more, needed more. But this was something, a step forward; the question was whether it was enough.
Ro squeezed her hand. “It’s great.”
* * *
Listening to music and lounging on the couch with Tasha, Ro waited for her roti dough to rest and tried not to think too much about tonight. Dinner with Tasha’s mom, who didn’t quite like Ro — yet — but who was at least beginning to appreciate that she made Tasha happy. Ro knew that she wasn’t most people’s idea of a perfect partner for their child — much less Tasha’s traditional parents — but, for Tasha, Ro would do her best.
And it wasn’t as if she could have made a worse first impression. Being puck, Ro had never had to come out. Fluid and free sexuality had been a given in her household. If anything, the idea of trying to explain the lack of sex in her relationship with Tasha would probably blow her dad’s mind.
But, for Tasha, it’d been different. She’d never told her parents about her sexual orientation. When Ro had asked her why, she’d said it’d never felt like she had to. Why would she, when she’d never dated anyone of any gender long enough to want to introduce them to her parents?
Until Ro. This white, half-puck woman who was about as far as you could get from the nice, Indian boys Tasha said her mother used to set her up with.
Yet, despite the awkward memories of that first meeting, of trying to explain their relationship to Tasha’s mom, Ro found herself smiling. She kinda liked being the only one Tasha had deemed important enough to take that step with. It made her feel honored, special.
It made her want to be special. Ro’s dad firmly believed that the best way to ingratiate yourself to people was by bringing them an offering, and her mother believed that good food always made the best gift. Ro just hoped her roti tasted as good as Tasha’s mom’s.
Nervously, Ro tapped the rhythm of the song playing through her headphones against the sole of Tasha’s foot.
“Hey!” Tasha yanked her foot back. “Massages, not tickles.”
Ro smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, you know me and really good refrains; I lose my head.”
Tasha rolled her eyes. “Now I’ve lost my place in my book.” She swiped her finger across her tablet. But, even as she grumbled, she straightened her leg so her foot fell into Ro’s waiting hands. A not-so-subtle sign.
Well, yes, ma’am.
So, with fifteen minutes left until she had to check on her dough, Ro resumed rubbing the supple flesh, feeling the stress of Tasha’s day melt away in her hands. Tasha moaned as she worked a particularly stubborn knot. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but that small sound — accompanied by the tensing then loosening of Tasha’s muscles — hit her hard.
It was such a small thing. A comfortable kind of closeness. Almost an insignificant intimacy. With any other person, Ro would have taken it for granted.
But, with Tasha, it felt different. Like a treasure discovered or a truth known.
* * *
Tasha trailed Ro by a few steps as they headed back to the car from Faere Trade.
Ro crushed her hat to her head. “I told you that would be a bad idea.”
Tasha sighed. “I just wanted my friends to see your world, so they’d stop being so worried about me.”
“Your friend couldn’t stop staring at everyone — including me — like we were some kind of exhibit at a zoo or a circus. And her boyfriend kept accusing me of the worst stereotypes
.”
Richard had not been happy about having to drink the tea to see past the magic. He kept asking about ingredients and FDA ratings.
Ro turned on Tasha. “What did you tell them about me? They practically accused me of abducting you, drugging you. Taking advantage of you. Questioning why someone like me was even with someone like you when ‘everyone knows what pucks like.’ As if all I am is a pair of horns and an out-of-control sex drive.”
Tasha winced. She knew what it was like to have people think they knew everything they needed to know about you just by taking one look. It wasn’t something she’d wish on anyone. Much less Ro. And by her friends!
Ro shook her head. “Maude is your best friend and that’s what she thinks of me. How is it that all they see when they look at me is bad storytelling and fear-based folklore?” Her gaze narrowed on Tasha, her jaw set and her eyes watery. “And if that’s all they see, how do I not wonder, when you look at me, what exactly you see?”
Tasha didn’t know what to say to that. Of course, she didn’t think that. They both knew she didn’t; they wouldn’t be together if she did. But there wasn’t a way to defend herself without sounding, well, defensive. As if the problem was Ro not understanding her rather than Tasha’s friends not understanding Ro. And that was Tasha’s fault. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.”
She’d talked to Maude and Richard about Ro, tried to prepare them. Or at least she thought she had. Maude was her best friend and Ro was important to her; of course, she’d told Maude everything. How much fun they had together. How sweet and funny and talented Ro was. How even her mom was coming around about their relationship. How patient Ro had been with her. How comfortable — even eager — she made Tasha feel. How so many things that had in the past seemed obligatory or tedious or even nerve-wracking felt right with Ro.
And she’d thought that Maude understood. She’d said that she did. She’d been excited and happy for Tasha.
But somewhere between suspicions over spell-spiked tea and seeing gargoyles and fairies and pucks for the first time, all that happy excitement had given way to all the supernatural-panic news stories and humanity-first political rhetoric bombarding them from the media.
It Gets Even Better Page 15