Her unusual technique was clearly more than Kate could ignore. She started across the room, looking like she wanted to comfort, or at least reassure, Seneca. She approached slowly and made sure Seneca could hear her so as not to startle her and gently put a hand on her shoulder. The only reaction was an almost imperceptible flinch, much improved from the six-foot-high reaction she used to have when Kate surprised her.
“Kiddo, the only thing you have to worry about is having a good time. The rest will work itself out if you both want it to.”
Kate probably expected Seneca to nod in agreement and continued folding towels, working out her demons silently and on her own, the way she usually did. She looked completely shocked when Seneca turned around and enveloped Kate in a bone-crunching hug. The reaction actually surprised Seneca as well, as she started to almost immediately pull out of the embrace, but Kate held her firmly and let her have a few minutes of safety and calm before letting her go.
“Thank you,” Seneca said, almost too quietly to be heard. “I’ve never, it won’t happen…thanks.” She turned back to her towels, embarrassed.
“I’m always available for a chat, a meal, or even a hug.”
She left without saying anything else. Apparently, the embrace had left her speechless. Whether it was the hug or just the emotional relief, Seneca no longer beat up the towels. Maybe, just maybe, Kate was right. Things would work themselves out.
Chapter Ten
Dylan held her breath as she opened the letter Seneca had left with the flower. She was amazed that Seneca remembered her flippant remark about her favorite flowers being lilies.
As she read Seneca’s short, precise request, she didn’t know what to make of it. It was not the date she had hoped for, but Dylan suspected it was Seneca’s way of holding out the olive branch. Perhaps it was all she could manage. She took a moment to decide if a friendship with Seneca was what she was willing to sign on for. Whether “yes” was the right answer or not, it was the one she kept coming up with. She looked down at the note again. Of course she would be Seneca’s partner for their ancient inventions project. If nothing else, it meant they would get to spend much more time together, and Seneca had said she knew her way around a metal shop. The formality of the request was also adorable. All week, Dylan had heard other classmates calling out to each other, seeking partners for their project, but Seneca had brought her a lily and a formal, written request. Hard to say no to that.
Seneca flew out of the classroom so quickly after the lecture, Dylan didn’t have a chance to accept. She waited until after dinner and called Seneca’s room phone.
“I accept and thank you for the lily,” Dylan said when Seneca answered.
“What should we make? What’s your major? What are you going to do when you graduate? We could do something for you to take with you,” Seneca said.
“I’m a math major and I’m planning on going to business school. I don’t think we should make an abacus.”
“I’m not totally sure I agree. Those are pretty cool. I never would have guessed math major, Bob. And business? If I had any money or a business, I would totally trust you with it, but it doesn’t seem like you.”
Dylan agreed. “My cousins are doctors, lawyers, successful fundraisers for non-profits, even the rogue artist just showed her work at one of the most prestigious galleries in New York City. The corporate ladder was missing in the family tree.” Perhaps that wasn’t quite fair, but lately that was how it was starting to feel.
“Is it what you want to do?” Seneca asked.
“It’s a good, respectable career with lots of options that will pay well and has good job security,” Dylan said. She sounded like her father.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Seneca said.
“I know,” Dylan said, feeling a little defeated. “I’ll see you in class. Maybe we can do something that involves welding.”
*
Dylan put on her safety glasses and hunched over the scraps of metal she was about to weld together. She held the torch in her right hand and visualized the seam she wanted to create. Before she started, she snuck a glance at Seneca, who was resting her right hip against a pile of scrap metal and shielding her eyes from the glare of the welding torch. They weren’t arc welding so they were both getting by without full-face shields. Dylan had been concentrating on the little puddle continuously forming between the two pieces of metal she had been working on for the past hour, but she’d been acutely aware of every subtle movement Seneca made.
She thought it must have something to do with the heat of the tiny space they had been working in together for the past few weeks, since they had started on their project. Dylan had been surprised by their reactions to each other. The first few “study dates” had taken place in the library as they pored over every book they could get their hands on, looking for the perfect combination of ingenious design and intriguing craftsmanship. Once she got the idea in her head, Dylan had been adamant about doing a project that required at least some welding. It was a skill she didn’t feel she could graduate from college without, though she knew in real life she’d probably never use said skill. She didn’t think corporate America had many uses for a welding torch. If it did, she’d be much more willing to join that particular workforce.
When they had settled on making an armored breastplate, Dylan had grabbed the book, opened it across her chest, spine out, and galloped around the room, fighting imaginary enemies with an unseen sword. In the end, Seneca had slain the good knight, catching her unawares with a well-directed and giggle-inducing poke to exposed ribs. Dylan laughed so hard she stumbled over Seneca’s legs and ended up in her lap. She had felt terrible when she saw Seneca’s face screw up in pain momentarily on impact, but when Dylan tried to get up, Seneca wrapped her arms around her waist and held her in place. Seneca looked even more shocked by the gesture than the pain, but Dylan had been thrilled by her impulsive gesture. They’d parted company quickly after that, and she’d wondered what Seneca spent the rest of the evening thinking about. She hadn’t been able to stop wondering why she hadn’t taken advantage of their proximity and kissed her.
Since then, every day she had spent in Seneca’s company had reinforced her initial impression that Seneca was far more than she let people believe. She also had a sneaking suspicion she was completely smitten. What might come next was anyone’s guess. Luckily, the slow pace that their flirtation was taking seemed to be working for both of them.
“Seneca?” Dylan asked, looking up at Seneca grinning madly down at her. “You okay?”
“What? Oh yes, fine,” Seneca said quickly, looking guilty. “Did you need something?”
Dylan sighed in exaggerated frustration and pointed to the grinder sitting on the pile of metal scraps Seneca was leaning against.
“Oh, my turn already? Sorry, Bob.” Seneca grabbed the grinder and picked up the still warm mass of metal Dylan had been working on. “Is it cool enough for me to grind yet?”
“It was a long daydream you were having. It’s practically cold,” Dylan said teasingly. She didn’t mention just how easy Seneca’s face was to read or the undisguised desire her eyes held. It was enough that they were spending time together, and Dylan wasn’t ready for much more either. The idea of dating Seneca was exciting and terrifying.
Seneca’s face reddened, but Dylan noticed she didn’t draw away as violently or as quickly, physically or emotionally, as she had in the past. Maybe she finally knew Dylan was only teasing.
“Bob, I think I have you all figured out. You’re a tease,” Seneca said, as if reading Dylan’s mind.
“Whatever took you so long to notice?” Dylan asked, keeping her voice light and batting her eyes dramatically.
Seneca’s face grew serious and she looked earnestly down at Dylan, who was still crouching over their workspace. “I’m a little new at this. I’m trying. Just please be patient.”
The pleading sound in Seneca’s voice made Dylan want to pull Seneca into her a
rms and promise to protect her forever. Somehow, she knew that wasn’t what Seneca needed and wasn’t the basis for a relationship, or even a very good friendship. She smiled and nodded and pretended as if they were only talking about the teasing, but Dylan suspected Seneca was also asking for patience in any relationship they might have. Dylan was content with that, because she saw the way Seneca looked at her, and it made her feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet. For now, that was more than enough.
“Are you going to grind this down for me so I can see how we’re doing? I think I might need your uber muscles again for some more hammering.”
“Bob, I think you make me do that just so you can watch me sweat,” Seneca complained half-heartedly, the lightness on her face giving away her true feelings.
“Maybe I do, or maybe I like those sexy arms of yours. Think you could wear a tank top for me tomorrow?”
Dylan surprised herself with her candor and watched in fascination as Seneca grew still and paled slightly before trying to hide her reaction by messing with the tools. This time Dylan didn’t apologize for her comments or even mention Seneca’s reaction. Seneca probably got told all the time how hot she was, but Dylan doubted Seneca ever believed it. Maybe she would if it was coming from Dylan.
“Well, in that case, stand back and let a woman get to work.” Seneca puffed her chest out importantly and pushed off the metal heap. She ignored the tank top comment.
“And where would you like me to stand, ma’am? How about over here?” Dylan positioned herself directly in Seneca’s line of sight and smiled her most alluring smile.
“Bob! I take it back. You’re a flirt, not a tease.” Seneca laughed. “How am I supposed to get any work done?”
Seneca ground down the extra metal from the novice weld and then heated another section of the metal armor and used a small hammer to pound it into the desired shape. The work was time-consuming, as the metal cooled quickly and had to be reheated often and the large gloves were bulky and awkward. After getting a shape she seemed happy with, she held up the armor for Dylan’s inspection.
“Time for a test run,” Seneca said as she handed the contraption to Dylan.
Dylan rolled her eyes and obligingly put it on. The breastplate slid perfectly over her shoulders and fit snugly around her waist. Seneca had made it the perfect size.
“You only do this because you don’t want to be the tin can everyone feels the need to tap on.”
Seneca nodded. “True. And the armor looks better on you.”
Whenever either one of them tried the armor on and walked out into the main section of the shop to look in the mirror, their classmates felt it their duty to test the strength and authenticity of the armor. So far, Dylan had been tapped with a soon to be metal sword, and the handle of an imperial umbrella, and she had been shot with a small cannonball.
Early on in their attempts, one classmate had tried the same technique with Seneca donning the armor, and Seneca had bolted from the room. The incident seemed to reaffirm everyone’s beliefs that Seneca was a lost cause, despite the way she acted when Dylan was around. They had decided it was safer to make the armor Dylan-sized, and, as usual, she hadn’t asked Seneca why someone’s touch bothered her so deeply. She let it go and they moved on. Eventually, she knew she needed to stop doing that if they were going to have any kind of future together. Seneca was going to have to trust her enough to share a bit more deeply with her. But a crowded workshop wasn’t the place for that, and she could be patient.
“What do you think?” Seneca asked as Dylan returned unscathed from her harrowing trip across the larger room.
“Probably need to work on this side a little more. It sits off-kilter on my shoulders, but we can do that tomorrow. Also, someone has switched to bow and arrows for their project, and I was shot twice. We might need to consider a helmet with this thing because the shooter has terrible aim.” Dylan glanced at her watch, wondering how long they had been trapped in the dungeonous machine shop. “Seneca! You’re going to be late for work. Kate isn’t going to be happy.” Dylan hadn’t met Kate, but Seneca spoke highly of her, and Dylan could see the changes in Seneca since she started working in the training room.
“I can call her and tell her I’m going to be a few minutes late. We still have to clean up.” Seneca indicated the tiny metal shop behind her.
“I’ll do it. Don’t be late. Tell Kate hi for me.”
“But, Bob—”
“Seneca, out of here now!” Dylan pointed at the door for emphasis.
“Fine. Thank you. But you know, I’ve worked up quite an appetite working so hard, and now you’re being nice to me. I think I owe you dinner.”
Dylan couldn’t believe Seneca had just asked her out to dinner. She ignored just how happy it made her.
“When you smile like that, I want to reach out and touch it. I think if I could make contact with that ray of pure happiness, it could wrap a shield around me and sustain me through any hardship that might come,” Seneca said quietly. “Wow, that just sounded a lot cheesier out loud than it did in my head.”
“Have you been storing that one in your back pocket for just the right moment?” Dylan asked. The words were incredibly cheesy, but also rather sweet. “I happen to like a little cheese. I’m the one who wants to be wooed, remember? And there’s nothing cheesier than that. Are you expecting hardship?”
“Are you implying I practice pick up cheeseball lines so I can whip them out when the time is right? You should know I’m not nearly skilled enough for that,” Seneca said sweetly. “You never know when you might run into hardship. Is that a yes for dinner?”
“Yes. You are so sweet, Seneca King. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”
Seneca leaned in to place a gentle, quick kiss on Dylan’s cheek, then she pulled away hurriedly, looking embarrassed, and mumbled she would call after work before she limped as fast as she could from the room.
Dylan touched her cheek and glared at the few people who were openly staring at her or the doorway Seneca had just exited through, and she walked back into the metal shop feeling like she was floating ten feet off the ground. Because they were so infrequent and so out of character, special gifts like the kiss from Seneca took on more tenderness than they otherwise would have. Dylan knew Seneca had no idea, but she was subtly and ever so slowly beginning to sweep Dylan off her feet.
Chapter Eleven
“It’s gonna rain tonight,” Seneca said as Dylan walked up to greet her on the porch of Razor House.
“Really?” Dylan hadn’t heard anything about rain, and she wasn’t dressed for a downpour. Although the way Seneca was subtly trying to sneak a peek at her ass, she was glad she had chosen the outfit she did, even if it wasn’t waterproof. “How do you know?”
Seneca hesitated and then pointed to her leg, lifting it off the ground just enough to emphasize her point.
“You come with a built in barometer? Well, why didn’t you say so? Now I’ll have to take you everywhere with me,” Dylan said.
Color crept up Seneca’s neck and face, but she didn’t look upset.
“Does it hurt more in the rain?” Dylan asked, realizing that the weather might make it harder for Seneca to walk downtown.
Seneca shrugged. “A little, I guess.”
Dylan figured that was about as clear an “it hurts like hell and I can barely walk” as she would ever get.
“Anything I can do?” Dylan knew Seneca was extremely independent, and while she didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, she genuinely wanted to help if there was something she could do to ease her pain. That Seneca didn’t react defensively was a good sign indeed.
“Britt tried to get me to bring my cane,” she said.
“Is that code for, ‘Bob, would you go upstairs and get my cane?’”
Seneca laughed. “You said it, not me. If Britt asks, it was all your idea and you made me use the damn thing.”
“Be right back,” Dylan said, taking the steps two at a
time on her way to Seneca’s fourth-floor room.
Britt looked surprised to see Dylan, out of breath and smiling, when she opened the door.
“She already left. Said she was going to meet you downstairs. I don’t know how you would have missed her,” Britt said.
“She did meet me downstairs. Apparently, it’s going to rain,” Dylan said matter-of-factly. “Do you mind if I grab something for her real quick?”
“I see you’ve adopted Seneca’s habit of explaining things in one nonsensical sentence. Excellent.” She ushered Dylan in.
“Do you know where she keeps her cane?” Dylan asked, looking around the room but not seeing it.
“Ah,” Britt said, looking shocked. “It’s in the closet. That’s where she usually flings it when she considers actually using it. How in the world did you convince her to use it?”
Dylan heard the annoyance in Britt’s voice at Seneca’s stubbornness, but also noticed the concern in her eyes. Clearly, she cared about Seneca a lot. Wild, boiling jealousy gurgled up so fast Dylan barely had a chance to recognize it. It was like a bad case of heartburn, unpleasant, unwelcome, and too advanced for a couple Tums.
“You two don’t….is there anything?” Dylan tried to clamp down the uncharacteristic emotions. So what if Seneca and Britt had had a thing? Britt had said there was nothing between them.
“Nope, never was, never wanted there to be, and never will be,” Britt said quickly. She could probably see the crazy monster Dylan was morphing into. “I care about her as a friend only. Not sure why. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, but my hormones have never taken me in that direction.”
“Oh, good,” Dylan said awkwardly, realizing she had been caught being insane, especially since this was only their first real date. She dove into the closet to look for the cane before she could embarrass herself any further.
“Be careful with her though. She likes you a lot. She’s just so…be good to her.”
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