by Haley Cass
Charlotte had scrolled through what must have amounted to thousands of profiles over the years, had messaged and met up with a good amount of them. She’d seen stunning women, women who were gorgeous both in and out of their pictures. The woman – Sutton – was someone she would put into that gorgeous category, but mostly, she’d liked that she looked so . . . open.
So, even though she’d intended to delete her account that night, she’d been extremely pleasantly surprised to see the message proposing a hookup from Sutton. It couldn’t hurt, she supposed to have one last SapphicSpark hurrah. It would be almost symbolic, in a way.
She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’d been a bit disappointed about the fact that it hadn’t actually been Sutton herself who’d proposed said hookup. But she had been surprised at the fact that she’d found herself a bit charmed by Sutton herself.
A bit awkward, a lot amusing, adorably naïve, almost alarmingly honest.
Shaking her head, she tapped her inbox. There were three new messages since she’d checked the app the previous afternoon, and as the first two popped up, she debated reading them for a few seconds, her thumb hesitating over them . . . before she hit delete, instead. Tonight was the night that she actually had to delete this little portion of her life.
However, the third message popped up, and she paused in surprise. Truthfully, the last thing she had expected was for there to be another message from Sutton in her inbox.
Despite the fact that she’d only opened the app in order to delete it . . . well, curiosity killed the cat.
Sutton, 4:24PM
Hi, it’s just me, again. Obviously. I just wanted
to say thank you, again, for humoring me the
other night.
Quirking an eyebrow, Charlotte looked around her once more. When she was satisfied to see that no one was particularly interested in what she was doing, she turned her attention back to her phone. She had no idea what it was about Sutton’s seemingly earnest thanks that made her endearing, but she found herself answering anyway.
Charlotte, 7:06PM
As I said, I’m always happy to talk to a pretty
woman in need. I’ll admit, I’m a bit surprised
to see you still here.
She’d somewhat expected Sutton to have deleted her profile after having been so flustered about its existence.
Even though Sutton’s message had been sent a few hours ago, Charlotte had a tiny kernel of hope that she’d answer back as quickly as she had on Friday. Especially because she had an inkling that Sutton hadn’t messaged her just because she’d wanted to say thanks, again, four days later.
She nearly jumped – would have, if she hadn’t had a lot of practice at maintaining her composure over the years – when she felt two hands land on her shoulders, and a familiar voice ask in her ear, “And who is that?”
Quickly, she locked her phone, as she grinned widely. “Caleb!”
She spun in her seat to face her brother, still dressed in his police uniform, a wide smile on his face. His thumbs were tucked into his belt, a knowing smirk on his face that she knew was very similar to her own, brown waves hanging over his forehead. He gestured to her phone. “Another one of your ladies?”
“Something like that. Tell me, officer, what are you doing here?”
“Well, you’re breaking the law, you know. We are in an official government building, and I’ve heard a rumor that there is an obscene amount of alcohol on the premises,” Caleb shifted back on his heels. “I don’t want to make this into a big deal, but . . .”
Standing up, she shook her head in adoration as she tucked her arm through his. “I don’t suppose an esteemed officer such as yourself can be swayed with the promise of indulging in said alcohol.” She stood on her tiptoes and leaned in a bit to whisper in his ear, “Or with the promise to go home with a slightly inebriated mayor who is currently enjoying himself on the makeshift dance floor.”
Her brother’s eyes lit up and sought out Dean, who was indeed dancing. “I think I might be able to be persuaded.”
“I thought so,” she laughed quietly, and led him to the desk that was acting as a bar, “How did you find out about this little party?”
“I received a little message from the dancing queen,” he informed her, and they shared a smile, as they reached the liquor, and he reached out for a bottle. He looked at her over the top, “I bet grandmother is thrilled that her little flower is following in her footsteps earlier than expected.”
His tone was teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that she might have missed if she hadn’t known him so well. He wasn’t wrong, though. Their grandmother had praised her efforts and her plan to run now rather than later, especially given that she scorned half of the current Congress it seemed, and often gave thanks that she didn’t regularly have to work with them anymore.
Still, she rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, you know she’s proud of all of us.”
The exasperated look Caleb gave her made her throw her head back in laughter.
“She called me a trained monkey with a gun last Christmas,” he replied dourly, which only spurred on her laughter.
“That’s just her way of showing love. You know that.”
He continued to grumble for a moment, before he sobered, clinking his glass with hers. “Well, you already have my vote. I think you’ll have it in the bag.”
“We’ll see,” she murmured back, but couldn’t deny the rush she got at the words. She’d had the feeling that her future was truly starting since the night she’d decided to run.
Caleb tipped his head back and finished his wine before placing his glass on the table, and he grinned down at her. “Now, lead me toward the dance floor.”
***
A few hours later, Charlotte was still grinning as she let herself into her apartment. She wasn’t drunk, but pleasantly buzzed and tired, and she had Caleb and Dean’s goodnight calls still ringing in her ears. They’d walked her back to her apartment, all of them in fairly high spirits. And for a few moments, she’d stood back to watch the two of them walk down the sidewalk, walking close but careful to not be too close.
There were times when Charlotte felt that she was luckier than her brother and Dean. While Dean wasn’t as secretive about his sexuality as she was when it came to work, he was still private enough to keep from dancing with Caleb in front of their coworkers. She was lucky, because unlike her brother and her boss, she didn’t have the inclination to be in a relationship. She didn’t have someone to make eyes at from across the room, while being unable to dance with them, to really be with them.
She dropped her purse on the counter, keys on the hook right next to it, before she started to take off her light jacket. As she made her way into her bedroom, she felt her pocket buzz. Blearily, she pulled out her phone, placing it on her dresser, as she pulled off her fitted dress pants. Once she was stripped down to her bra and underwear, she reached for her phone again.
Much of her grogginess disappeared when she saw that it wasn’t a text from Caleb, as she’d expected, but instead a SapphicSpark notification.
She’d nearly forgotten that she’d messaged Sutton earlier, before the drinking and the dancing.
Sutton, 11:13PM
I’m actually a bit surprised that I’m still here,
too. I’ve told Regan I deleted it, out of spite.
Charlotte leaned back against the dresser, shaking her head at herself – because she’d meant to delete her own damn account again tonight, yet, here she was. And it didn’t stop her from responding.
Charlotte, 11:17PM
Regan?
Sutton, 11:18PM
Yes. Regan is my roommate and friend, who
created this account for me. I want her to suffer.
She grinned, and wished – not for the first time, clearly – that Sutton would be interested in something casual. It wasn’t like she was hurting for a hookup, but she enjoyed that thing about Sutton that rang . . .
unique. Certainly unique to any of her other interactions on a dating app, because most of the women she encountered were more like herself.
Charlotte, 11:20PM
More devious than I might have expected of
you, sweet girl.
Sutton, 11:21PM
She created this profile and messaged girls –
well, girl, you know, you – asking to hook up,
on my behalf!
It was that picture, she decided. Sutton’s picture with her mid-laugh and so animated, that made it so easy for Charlotte to imagine this righteous indignation. It was enough to make her chuckle.
Charlotte, 11:22PM
That’s true. She got both of our hopes up; you
should make her suffer as much as possible.
Sutton, 11:23PM
Exactly. Um, I’m sorry for writing back to you so
late. I hope I didn’t wake you up.
There was that feeling again. The feeling that Sutton had something to say beyond what she was actually saying, and Charlotte wanted to know what it was.
Charlotte, 11:25PM
Don’t worry, I was out late doing something for
work. I’m usually up this late, anyway.
She didn’t typically like to go in to even that much detail about her personal life with women on here, not even mentioning work at all. Though she’d never not been hooking up with one before, either, so she supposed it was okay.
Sutton, 11:28PM
I don’t really stay up late, usually. I’m much more
of a morning person. But my sister is going away
soon, and she has horrible sleeping habits, so I was
with her tonight.
Sutton, 11:29PM
I realize that you didn’t need or probably want
any details about my sister. I apologize for that.
Charlotte, 11:31PM
You have nothing to apologize for. And while I
don’t mind knowing your sleeping habits, or even
a few details about your sister, I have a sneaking
suspicion that you didn’t message me to tell me
either of those things. Feel free to tell me whatever
it is. I don’t bite.
Charlotte, 11:32PM
Unless you’ve changed your mind about that
very first message, that is ;)
She couldn’t resist, and she put her phone back down before making her way into the bathroom. After doing an abbreviated version of her nightly routine – only cleaning off her makeup, washing her face, and brushing her teeth, because she was, actually, fairly tired – she made her way back to her room.
Stripping off her bra and underwear now, she pulled on a tank top and a pair of shorts before reaching for her phone once more and crawling into bed. She was unsurprised to see that she had multiple messages from Sutton.
Sutton, 11:35PM
Oh. I haven’t changed my mind about, um, you
know, hooking up. But – you are right.
Sutton, 11:35PM
The thing is, I really was going to delete my profile.
I keep telling myself that I should. I mean, you’re
the only woman I’ve talked to on here, and you’re –
well, you.
Charlotte, 11:38PM
Well, I’m certainly me, but I’m unsure of what
exactly you mean by that.
Sutton, 11:39PM
I just meant that – you are clearly gorgeous
and you can flirt without being weird, at all.
Even when I know I’ve said something stupid,
you make it seem like not a big deal.
So, it was a good thing, then. Charlotte knew she was attractive; she prided herself on self-awareness. She also knew that many other women found her good looking. But it was the casual, unassuming way Sutton just said it, without any expectations, that gave way to a pleased warmth.
Sutton knew how to make herself even more endearing without even trying, she decided. She had her own brand of charm that she didn’t properly know how to use. And she knew that if it worked for her, it would work for others.
Charlotte, 11:41PM
Enough about me, charmer. Why do you think
that you should delete your profile?
Though, she was one to talk. As she really did need to delete this.
Sutton, 11:42M
Because I can’t talk to women! You should already
know that better than anyone.
Once more, she imagined that pretty face flushing with indignation, and she could see it so clearly in her head that it made her smile. Even so, she yawned and shook her head as she wrote back.
Charlotte, 11:44PM
Don’t underestimate yourself. You can hold your
own. Besides, the beginning of online dating can be
strange for everyone. Just settle into it.
Sutton, 11:46PM
That’s the thing, though. It’s not just . . . that.
Sutton, 11:47PM
It’s not just online, I mean.
It took her sleepy mind a few seconds to connect the dots. But when she did, she sat up a bit, intrigued.
Charlotte, 11:48PM
Have you never been with a woman?
Sutton, 11:51PM
Well . . . no. I made out with one. Once. Or, she
made out with me. But I was a participant.
Charlotte dropped her head back into her pillow, groaning as she shut her eyes to curse . . . someone. Something. This whole situation. Because there was this beautiful woman who was clearly interested in exploring her sexuality, and Charlotte could be just the person Sutton needed. For one or two nights.
Which was the opposite of what Sutton actually wanted. Though they’d only spoken for such a short time, she knew that Sutton wanted the emotional connection that Charlotte had never been particularly wanting or missing.
Charlotte, 11:53PM
Do you want to know what I think?
Sutton, 11:54PM
I’m not sure.
Sutton, 11:54PM
But, yes.
Amusement settled in her stomach.
Charlotte, 11:58PM
I think that you not deleting this profile means
that despite the fact that you’re nervous and
despite the fact that you’re unhappy that your
friend Regan forced you into this, you want to
be here.
She reached over to her nightstand to plug in her phone, resting it on her chest as she leaned back once more. She did need to get to sleep – she did have work in the morning, after all – but she’d never had this sort of actual conversation with a woman on here. Which was her own doing, as she didn’t want to complicate her sex life and turn anything personal.
But she was enjoying it, enjoying the fact that even though she wasn’t going to be hooking up with Sutton, they could have a real conversation. She didn’t actually have many honest conversations, at all, aside from with her family members and Dean.
Sutton, 12:00AM
I think you’re probably right.
Charlotte, 12:01AM
I usually am, darling ;)
She put her phone down on her stomach and leaned back into her pillows with a comfortable sigh.
***
The alarm on her phone blared from where it rested on her stomach. Brown eyes blinked open as she groaned. Six in the morning came a lot faster than she ever cared for.
She brought up one hand to rub at her eyes, reaching down to shut off the alarm. When she noticed that she had five messages from SapphicSpark.
Sutton, 12:05AM
I just don’t really know even what to say to start
talking to someone. Or even what to look for,
you know?
Sutton, 12:07AM
Because I’m sure that there are more woman
than not who are more or less only looking for
something casu
al, like you.
Sutton, 12:08AM
And it’s not like I should just come out and ask
“hey, what are you looking for?”
Sutton, 12:08AM
Can I?
Sutton, 12:16AM
Oh, god. This is even more mortifying than our
first interaction, I think. Please ignore me, now.
Charlotte was instantly more awake now as she found herself chuckling. She didn’t know how many other people she’d ever found so easily entertaining. She didn’t know how many people sent four messages in a row in a ramble before realizing that the other person wasn’t there. Certainly no one who texted her.
She gathered her hair over her shoulder and sat up.
Charlotte, 6:05AM
You shouldn’t feel mortified; I fell asleep.
Tossing her phone onto the blankets next to her, she stretched. And then stared in amazement when her phone buzzed back.
Sutton, 6:06AM
That’s a relief.
She wasn't sure whether to continue to be amused or to be actually concerned that this woman appeared to have been awake all night. Awake and . . . anxious about having sent Charlotte so many messages?
Charlotte, 6:09AM
Do you sleep?
Sutton, 6:11AM
Of course! I just woke up, actually. But I told you that
I’m a morning person. Besides, I have a few things to
do this morning.
With a disbelieving shake of her head, she wrote back quickly, pulling on her past experiences, before leaving her phone on her bed to decide what to wear for the day.
Charlotte, 6:14AM
Well, on the topic of the messages you sent while
I was sleeping, I’ll say that you can ask women
what they are looking for. But there are other
things you can look for, too. Little clues on their
profiles that can indicate what they’re after.
Sutton, 6:17AM
Can I ask you something that might be a bit odd?
Charlotte, 6:21AM
In all honesty, you’ve said several things that are
a bit odd, and we’re still talking. So, go ahead.
She smirked, and had a strange feeling of anticipation as she went to shower. It was quick, as she was feeling a little sluggish still, and she wrapped her towel around herself to make her way back into the bedroom.