Sydney stood and pressed her shaking hands to her thighs, trying to get them to still.
She didn’t have a light. And without a light, she couldn’t check the cupboards in the kitchen; she couldn’t make sure that her apartment was empty, was safe. After what had happened with Mrs. Williams… Well, in the moment, it had felt cathartic to tell the woman off, but now, her heart beat like a frightened animal’s.
She needed to make sure she was safe.
And she didn’t know how to do that…
That’s when the knock came at the door.
Sydney started so badly that Max actually sprang to his feet—something his bulk wasn’t accustomed to, and something he never, ever did—and he let out a loud, low woof that made the floorboards beneath Sydney’s feet vibrate. Sydney reached out, put a hand on top of Max’s head to soothe him; if he barked too much, someone in the building might complain.
The knock at the door came again. A sharp, unmistakable rap, rap, rap.
It had to be Mrs. Williams. Mrs. Williams had come to give Sydney a piece of her mind, to tell her that she was going to hell.
But Sydney realized that it was good that Mrs. Williams was at the door, in a strange sort of way, because that gave her something to focus on besides her anxieties. Though she certainly didn’t want to deal with Mrs. Williams twice in one evening—especially after their last conversation—she crossed to the door and put her eye to the peephole.
But it was not Mrs. Williams on the other side.
It was Caroline.
Caroline was visible in the soft glow of her cell phone, held in her hand. The glow washed her blonde ponytail and the curves of her face in a cool, silvery light, and Sydney paused for a heartbeat, simply looked at the beautiful woman.
Why was she here?
Sydney took a step back and opened the door.
Caroline looked up from her phone's screen with a quick smile. “Hello!” she said brightly, her head tilted to the side. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Sydney, but… Well, I was on my way to buy some candles. I saw boxes of them at the gas station last week. So I thought it’d be neighborly to ask you if you needed any.”
“Any?”
“Candles.”
“Oh…right.” Sydney glanced around her dark apartment. She couldn’t see a thing, because Caroline’s phone shed a narrow window of light.
“But… It’s raining out,” Sydney said softly, and Caroline chuckled.
“I’ve gotten wet before,” she said wryly, patting her ponytail. “I won’t melt.” Her voice was gently teasing. “It’s not a big deal, really. I’ll be there and back in a few minutes—”
“Could I come with you?” Even as the words left her mouth, Sydney knew she shouldn't have said them. She was attracted to Caroline. And running through the rain with someone you had a debilitating crush on... That was something that happened in romantic comedies—right before a first kiss.
Caroline watched Sydney for a weighted moment, but before Sydney could take back what she’d said, before she could mutter, “Never mind,” Caroline’s smile changed, softened. “You don’t have to, but I wouldn’t mind the company. If you’re sure.”
Sydney wasn’t sure. Not in the slightest. But she found herself smiling in return. “Yeah.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “Just…let me make sure Max has water before we go. Do you want to come in?”
Caroline stepped into the little apartment and shut the door behind her. Sydney crouched by the door and felt for Max’s water bowl. It was, unfortunately, as dry as a bone.
“I’m going to have to get him a second bowl. This one is huge, but it’s always empty by the time I get home, poor guy,” she mumbled, grateful to have something to talk about, because she often found herself tongue-tied around Caroline.
“Sassy’s the same way. She loves playing in the water with her paws, and then it all splashes out,” chuckled Caroline.
Sydney couldn't believe that this woman was in her apartment, filling it with the music of her laughter.
“Do you need light to see yourself to the sink?” asked Caroline, and before Sydney could reply, Caroline had stepped forward and was shining the phone down onto the water bowl.
The hem of Caroline’s full skirt brushed gently across Sydney’s shoulders as she crouched near the floor.
If Sydney had not been so hyper aware, she might not have noticed the sensation of the fabric. Max lumbered around all the time, was always rubbing against her leg or hand with affection. She was used to another being brushing against her.
She wasn't used to this, though.
Again, she caught the scent of Caroline’s perfume. There was a brightness to it that reminded Sydney of lemons, but it spiraled into a riot of flowers: roses and jasmine and lily-of-the-valley, and there, beneath it all, the languid scent of irises. Sydney was spellbound by the scent, by the intimacy of the moment, by the softness of Caroline’s skirt, how it almost seemed to caress her…
“Oh, sorry…” Caroline murmured, when Sydney cast a glance over her shoulder at Caroline’s elegant calves, the nearness of them.
Caroline took a step back, and Sydney glanced up, then stood, brushing the dust from her knees as she held out the water bowl. “I’ll just go fill this,” she said softly.
Caroline followed close behind, holding the cell phone aloft.
Sydney had the bad habit of being in her head too much. The trauma of what had happened to her made retreating into her head the safest place to be. It was the best coping mechanism she could come up with during the dark months at the Redeemer House. Living in her thoughts was easier than actively dealing with pain and suffering, and, now, with the trauma of her past.
But when she was around Caroline, Sydney found that she didn’t think as often as she normally did.
When Sydney was around Caroline, she felt.
She felt the presence of the beautiful woman at her back. Every sense was attuned to her. She could hear, and clearly, despite the downpour outside, the pleasing clicks of Caroline’s high-heeled shoes, could hear the swish of Caroline’s skirt, moving against the silky length of her thighs. She could smell Caroline’s perfume—muted now that Sydney was further away, but still lingering in the air. She could see the shadow of Caroline moving behind her, reflected in the far window of her apartment.
Sydney could not taste her, of course. Or touch her. But she wished very, very much that she could.
The water was freezing when Sydney turned on the tap. It gushed out, over her hands, and she held the bowl inexpertly in the dark. Caroline stood closer, tried to hold the phone over the sink, and bumped up alongside Sydney as she did so.
The press of Caroline’s hip against her own made Sydney’s breathing simply stop. She stared down at the bowl of water, lips parted.
Caroline’s skirts were thick—it seemed that she always wore a crinoline beneath her dresses—and Sydney was wearing jeans. But what did it matter? Fabric separated them, yes, but separation doesn’t discourage the ache of want.
In fact, it only increases it.
Sydney set the full bowl on the floor, water sloshing up and over the sides. She straightened, wiping her hands self-consciously on her thighs, and she watched Caroline in the soft light.
“Are you ready to go?” Caroline asked.
Sydney nodded, ruffling Max behind the ears. The dog had stuck close by; he was no great fan of storms, or darkness, but he didn’t whine too much when Sydney opened the door for Caroline, ushering her into the hallway.
Sydney risked a glance over her shoulder as she shut and locked her door behind her. There was a dim light glowing beneath the door of the Williams’ apartment.
“Let’s go,” said Sydney, smiling as she glanced at Caroline.
The storm seemed to have let up. At least, the rain was lighter, only sprinkling now. Lightning still flickered across the sky, but the grumpy rumbles of thunder were infrequent and far away.
When Sydney held the Hamilton's door open for
Caroline, the woman smiled at her before passing through. It was a smile of thanks, and a quick one at that, but there was so much warmth in her expression when she regarded Sydney.
Sydney tried not to read too much into it, though it was hard not to. The girl wanted, more than anything else, for the older, more elegant, and far lovelier woman to notice her in ways that were not merely friendly. Caroline's words and actions bore no suggestiveness, no subtext. And Sydney was searching for subtext, searching for it feverishly.
She realized suddenly that, despite her past, her trauma, despite everything, if she felt that Caroline was attracted to her, she would act. She would initiate... And her longing—this hunger inside of her—would finally be satiated. She would answer her wishes with reality.
But though Sydney watched Caroline carefully, there was no moment in which she thought the woman looked at her with anything other than friendliness.
And that was crushing.
Sydney wasn't a hopeful person. She was cautious and anxious most of the time; she thought too much about everything. But she was earnest and truthful, caring and loving to the people she cared about. She loved to sing. She loved her dog with a vast fierceness. She wanted, more than anything, to be happy.
As they walked, shoulder to shoulder, down the steps and onto the sidewalk below, Sydney shoved her hands deep into her pockets, and Caroline slipped her phone into her purse. Sydney felt her heart pulsing inside of her, straining against the cage she’d built carefully around it.
Wildly, recklessly, she wanted to tell Caroline how she felt about her.
She wouldn't, though.
She knew what would happen.
She knew Caroline didn’t share her feelings.
But...what if?
As she glanced at Caroline, who was watching the stormy sky, her full lips parted in wonder…Sydney felt a seed inside of her break, sprout, unfurl. It was small, so small.
But there it was, growing.
She didn’t recognize it right away, but she came to understand it later.
Hope.
Caroline grinned then, ducking her chin and pushing a blonde curl behind her ear. Her ponytail was loose, and errant curls were escaping it, lying languidly over her shoulders, cascading down her back.
“I was sorry you had to leave so quickly during our lesson yesterday. Are you feeling better?” Caroline asked.
Sydney nodded, staring down at the sidewalk. “Yes. I’m sorry I ran out. I just needed to lie down. I was...pretty lightheaded.” That wasn't a lie. Sydney chanced another glance at Caroline.
“You have to take a lot of deep breaths when you're singing, and hold those breaths. If you hadn’t sung in a long time, maybe it was just too much, too soon. I can understand that.” She tilted her head to the side. “But…do you want to try again? Would you like to finish the lesson?”
Sydney was surprised, but tried not to show it. “You don’t have to—”
“Only if you want to, of course,” said Caroline quickly.
“I do. Of course I do.”
Sydney’s pulse leapt in her throat; she had been too adamant. She stammered a little. “I...I know you’re a good teacher. That's obvious. Anything you can teach me would be greatly appreciated. It’ll…help me be better.”
Caroline smiled toward the sidewalk. “Well, thank you. How about tomorrow? I have the evening free. Maybe six o’clock?”
Sydney thought about her work schedule. Her shift ended at six tomorrow night, and it might take half an hour to get home, if the buses were running behind.
“Six-thirty?” she asked, and Caroline nodded.
“Six-thirty it is.”
The gas station at the corner was unlit, but as they approached the building, they could see the silhouette of a guy scrolling through his cell phone behind the counter.
Caroline pulled on the door; it was open.
“After you, this time!” she said, with a little chuckle, dancing to the side and giving Sydney a flourishing bow. The girl’s stomach tightened, and she tried not to stare—too much—as Caroline leaned forward, her ponytail trailing over her shoulder.
“Thanks.”
“Hey,” the man behind the counter called out. “I can’t run a credit card through, but if you’ve got cash—”
“We have cash,” said Caroline, letting the door close behind her.
“I don’t,” Sydney mumbled, but Caroline was already shaking her head and holding up a hand.
“Don’t worry about it. The candles are my treat. And it's not much of a treat, honestly.” She considered the aisles. “Are you hungry?”
Sydney glanced around. She’d been in the gas station before, usually to buy a bag of dog food if she couldn’t stomach the idea of making a grocery store run. It was an average gas station, with average gas station fare. There were hummus packs in the grocery section, bags of chips in the aisles, some plastic cartons of fruit.
“I am, but—” Sydney began.
“I haven’t eaten yet myself, and I don’t have much food in my fridge. I was going to head out to the grocery store tonight, but I just don’t have the energy. We could get some stuff and maybe…” Caroline paused, then shrugged.
Sydney glanced at the fruit again and got an idea. She voiced it aloud before she could consider the ramifications: “We could have a little picnic at my place... If you wanted to.”
Caroline stared at her in the relative dark. There were illuminated emergency signs over the doorways, but other than that, the place was dim.
“A picnic?”
Sydney cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t have a table or chairs. So I usually eat on the couch, or sometimes I eat on a blanket on the living room floor. I call it a ‘picnic.’ It’s...a stupid idea.” She cringed at herself—until she noticed Caroline’s smile.
“Oh, my God, I love that! I think that’s the most charming thing I’ve heard in a long time. Let’s do it!” Caroline turned and began to walk down the aisle. The signs showed her silhouette: the pretty dip in at her waist, the curves of her breasts and hips…
Sydney yanked her gaze away because she didn’t want Caroline to catch her staring, and her cheeks reddened in the dark.
Caroline had called her idea sweet. Charming. She thought it was a good idea…and now that Sydney had blurted it out, now that they’d both agreed upon it, Sydney realized that they were going to be together in her apartment....eating a candlelit dinner.
It was old-school, classic romance. Could anything be more romantic than a candlelit dinner for two? She didn’t think so.
Her heart was racing, her anxiety peaking, but for once, Sydney didn’t care. She was elated. Excited. She felt as if she were walking on clouds as she neared the refrigerated section.
She gathered up some of the cartons of fruit, and both women chose bags of chips. Iced tea was procured from the cooler, and some hand pies and candy bars were pulled off of the shelves. When they approached the counter with their bounty, Sydney realized it was going to be expensive—gas station are convenient, not cheap—and when the guy totaled everything out, using a hand calculator, Caroline didn’t bat an eye before handing him two crisp twenty-dollar bills.
“Thank you,” Sydney managed, when they took their bags and turned to leave. Caroline glanced at the girl with a big smile.
“It’s my pleasure,” she said, and Sydney knew she meant it.
They walked back to the Hamilton, dodging raindrops. The rain was gaining momentum, falling faster, and by the time they reached the apartment building, the sky was storming again.
They’d almost reached the front door when Caroline slipped.
Trotting in heels on a slick sidewalk is a recipe for disaster. Sydney had never really worn heels—though she had tried some on at the mall on a dare from Thom and couldn’t take a single step without wincing.
When Caroline skidded and tried to right herself, Sydney reached out and caught her by the waist. Sydney’s grip was sure, and Caroline leaned into it s
o that she was able to remain standing, but as soon as Caroline was back on her own feet, balanced on her heels, Sydney let go as quickly as she could.
Still, letting go didn’t erase the feeling that touching Caroline had inspired. It didn’t erase the memory of the softness of her waist, warm and yielding.
It was dark, of course, but there was just enough light to see the outline of Caroline’s features: She was smiling, laughing breathlessly. She wasn’t looking at Sydney, but she didn’t need to.
Sydney felt a familiar ache in her heart, and a familiar emptiness.
“Thanks!” Caroline shook her head ruefully. “I chose the wrong footwear for a thunderstorm.”
“I think they’re very pretty, though. Do you always wear heels?” Sydney was trying her best to keep the conversation neutral, natural, normal, even as emotions warred within her.
Caroline nodded, and she patted the top of her head, adjusting her wet hair. “Here, let me,” she said, and she stepped forward, holding the door open for Sydney again. “Yes, I’ve always worn them. My mother did before me, and my grandmother before her. I think they just look nice, and I’ve gotten used to walking in them. I know I won’t wear them forever, but since I wear a lot of dresses that belonged to my mother, heels just go best with them, you know?”
“I’ve noticed you dress a little…retro?”
They were standing in the dark hallway now, the storm shut out behind the door.
“I guess. I don’t know. I like to look...classic.” Caroline took a few steps, turning around in a circle. “Which one is your apartment again? It was a little hard to find before...”
And then Caroline reached out and hooked her arm through Sydney’s.
It was an innocent gesture; Sydney knew it was. Caroline was unfamiliar with this wing of the building and wanted Sydney’s help in getting her to her apartment. But Caroline could have just followed her. Maybe tripping had made her feel unsteady on her feet.
Sydney didn’t know what to think, but she could feel the warmth of Caroline beside her, and it thrilled her, sending a pulse of desire through her body.
“Show me the way?” asked Caroline softly.
Sydney stepped forward, her right hand trailing against the wall. She traced her fingertips over the doors lightly until she reached her own apartment.
The Longing Page 10