Six weeks. Six long, lonely weeks with no word from Anya. Even in her worst nightmares Gemma hadn’t thought her coming out, if and when it finally happened, would end quite that badly. She’d dreaded awkwardness, distance, uncomfortable questions, but had been sure that in the end their friendship would survive. Clearly, she had been wrong.
But then—the knock on the door, and a shock of colors at eye level, roses and Peruvian lilies all mixed up and vivid, and Anya’s sweet, earnest face peeking out from behind the flowers. Gemma’s heart skipped a beat, stealing all breath from her lungs.
The bouquet was pushed into her arms, and she took it without thinking, stunned with the wave of emotions welling up in her chest. She’d always wondered what it would feel like to get flowers from someone—and then she would berate herself for falling back on stereotypes. She was a lesbian; surely it didn’t work the same way between two women. Did it? Was there a textbook for these things?
Only now it wasn’t even about the flowers, not really. Anya was here. Here was the chance Gemma had been too afraid to seek herself, right in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” she let out in a rush. The words had been ready and waiting for weeks now. “I shouldn’t have dumped my issues on you and definitely not in a moment like that. I was a terrible friend and I hope you can forgive me.”
Anya shook her head. Her right eyebrow was raised in an incredulous arch.
“Do not even,” she said. “This is my part, and I came prepared.” She pointed to the bouquet in Gemma’s arms. “Apology flowers.” Then she reached out with a tall travel mug in her hand. “Post-apology coffee. The good kind.”
“But—”
“But most importantly, unlike you, I actually have a reason to apologize. You trusted me with something precious and important, and I reacted like a caveman, and then disappeared without a word. It wasn’t fair to you, and, even though I had my reasons, that’s no excuse for hurting you. I’m so sorry.”
She paused, biting her lip, and it struck Gemma how young and vulnerable she looked: more subdued than ever, with no make-up and her hair in a loose braid. Gemma ached to reach out, touch her in any of the hundred familiar ways they had for comfort, but before she could, Anya straightened up with the brave mask falling back into place.
“Is it okay if I come in?”
Gemma hadn’t even realized they were still standing in the doorway. She moved out of the way and nearly tripped over the laundry basket in her hurry. “Of course. Sorry it’s a mess. I’ve been busy and…” She shrugged.
Anya’s smile was small and warm. “I don’t mind. I’ve missed you, and there have been so many changes in the last few weeks. I just want to talk to you. You’ve always been the one I talked to about important stuff.”
A terrible thought shot through Gemma’s head.
“Please tell me you haven’t gotten engaged to Ben after all.”
“What? No, of course not. Ben is history. You were right. He’s not the sort of compromise I want.”
“Oh. Okay, then. Let me just find a glass for the flowers and I’ll be right with you.”
A few minutes later, Gemma settled on her squeaky old desk chair and swiveled to face Anya, who was seated in her usual place on the bed. She handed Gemma the cup.
“One maple cappuccino with cinnamon on top, especially for you.”
Gemma accepted the coffee, hoping that the trembling in her hands wasn’t obvious. “Thank you. I didn’t know they had maple cappuccino in Starbucks right now.”
“They don’t. It’s from a different place. That’s actually one of the changes I mentioned.”
“You’ve changed your coffee provider? Impossible.”
Anya laughed. “And yet, I did. In more ways than one.” She took a deep breath. “I’m actually changing my job. I’ll be joining them next month.”
“What? But you love it at Starbucks!”
Anya shrugged; her fingers played with the corner of Gemma’s blue comforter. “I do. But I’ve thought about moving on for a while now, about trying it somewhere smaller and more artisan. Bloody Coffee fits the bill.”
“It’s called Bloody Coffee? That sounds like a place catering to vampires. Or managed by vampires. Wait, are you sure they aren’t out for your blood?” Gemma widened her eyes in exaggerated fright.
“Have you been binge watching Vampire Diaries again?” Anya chuckled. “No, I’m afraid they’re as human as they come. But their coffee is amazing and they use all the different brewing methods and send their baristas to professional workshops all the time. And it just felt like the right moment. To start anew in all the ways.” She paused with a smile. “I’ve moved out from my aunt’s too.”
Gemma could feel her jaw drop. “Really? That’s huge!”
“Yeah. It’s been nice to live rent-free, but I’ve had enough of the control and I can afford my own space now. Just a room in a student apartment, but it’s mine, and nobody tells me what time to get home every day or stops me from having any visitors I want. Plus, it’s only a five-minute walk from here.” She chuckled. “Who knows, maybe I’ll manage not to be late to classes for a change, now that I don’t have to take the bus.”
The look on Gemma’s face must have been completely transparent because Anya frowned. “What? Do you think it was a bad idea?”
“No, it just feels weird. Such important changes in your life, and I wasn’t there for any of them.”
“I know. But… I needed this, you know? The time apart. To see who I am on my own and to process some stuff. I needed to make sure what I’m thinking and feeling is my own, and not affected by your presence.” She reached over the short distance between the bed and chair to take Gemma’s hand. “I know it was awfully selfish of me to disappear without a word and I hope you can forgive me for that. I knew that if I started speaking to you after our last conversation, I wouldn’t be able to stop and then I would never know.”
There was something in Anya’s face, something soft and earnest, and Gemma found her voice shaky when she asked, “Know what?”
“If I’m really in love with you or just mirroring your affection.”
Gemma tensed, jerking away from the cool touch of Anya’s hand so hard her chair rode back and into the desk with a loud thump. “No. Please don’t say things like this. You don’t owe me anything just because I said I love you.”
“Didn’t you mean it?”
“Of course I meant it. I meant everything I said. But that doesn’t mean you have to reciprocate. I don’t expect you to change for me. We can just be friends like we always were. I can keep this to myself. It won’t get weird, I promise, just…” She dropped her head in her hands; her heart beat in a panicked staccato. “Don’t lie for my sake. Not to me, not to yourself.”
Anya’s voice was soft and careful. “That’s the thing though. I’m not lying. I’ve loved you since I met you too. Always. You’ve been my best friend. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined spending our whole lives together and how perfect that would be? I just never thought it could mean romantically.” She huffed, and Gemma looked up to see her amused face. “And it’s so stupid, because I’ve always considered myself an LGBT ally, but somehow it didn’t click that I, personally, could ever be attracted to anyone but boys. Like, being gay is all good in an abstract way, but a girl needs a husband and children, and that’s that. All my life, I haven’t once considered I could be a lesbian.”
“Because you’re not.”
“No. But I am bi.”
Gemma felt as though she could cry. “Anya. You just… I’m afraid that you may just be letting the situation sway you in a direction you’d never have taken otherwise. You’re fresh out of a long-term relationship. I came out to you by declaring my undying love for you. I think it may be a little… confusing.”
“I’m not confused. I might have been at first, with the break-
up and how many feelings your confession brought up in me, but then I decided to approach it methodically.”
“Methodically,” Gemma echoed weakly.
Anya grinned, infuriatingly beautiful even as she shook the ground beneath Gemma’s feet. “Yes, like they taught us in science class, remember? I needed to test my hypothesis and I needed to do it in a controlled environment, hence the distance from you. I designed a few experiments and set the time period to measure my responses. I would say the process has been immensely educational.”
Gemma shook her head, amused despite the nerves. “What did you do?”
“I went to a few meetings of the gay-straight alliance on campus and talked to people. Explored the gay club in town. Kissed a few girls.”
Gemma gasped. “You did what?!”
Anya bit her lip. “I know. A bit iffy when the goal was to prove or disprove I was in love with you, specifically. But I needed to check my reactions to actual physical contact, not just to my thoughts and fantasies, and I couldn’t approach you without being certain. And I am, now. Girls are really, really appealing to me. Sexy. Amazing. Got me thinking about all kinds of things I would love to do with them.”
“Oh, my god, please stop.” Gemma covered her eyes. She was sure her cheeks must be deep red by now. Anya continued, undeterred.
“But I haven’t done anything more than a kiss with any of them. Because they were not you, and I’d rather do these things with you. I want to do everything with you, to be everything for you.” Anya moved to kneel in front of Gemma’s chair, her eyes intense. “So no, don’t tell me I am confused. This is not a phase, or a rebound thing. I want to be with you. If you still want me.”
A small move forward, a squeak of the chair, and then Anya’s lips were on hers, softer and sweeter than anything Gemma ever dared to imagine. When she pulled back, Gemma’s head was spinning. Anya looked a little stunned too; her fingers flew up to her mouth.
“Oh.” She licked her lips; a smile started in the corners of her mouth and spread to her whole face until her eyes were dancing. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
The coffee went cold. Gemma didn’t care.
9. Instant
There was no proper coffee in Gemma’s room, just the half-decent instant she always bought, and she briefly considered running out for the good stuff, but one look at Anya’s lovely face on her pillow was enough to banish the idea. She wouldn’t risk missing the chance to see her wake up after their first night together—together—with that sleepy smile of hers and her bare arms stretching up, maybe the blankets riding down a little…
Blushing, Gemma stopped that train of thought. They’d only been together for a few weeks, and it had been a time of slow exploration in stolen hours between paper writing and reviewing and exams, a time of discovering how much had changed for them with this new kind of relationship and how much remained the same as it always had been. But now finals were officially over, and Anya had stayed at Gemma’s overnight for the first time since that talk.
Gemma’s body still hummed with the memory.
The electric kettle clicked off; water bubbled happily inside. She took out the milk and poured water over the prepared powder. The mere act of making two cups of coffee this morning filled her with heady joy. But there were nerves too. Last night was like a dream capping off a period of unreal, sleep-deprived happiness. The school year was over, and they hadn’t discussed what would happen now. Were they going to let people know they were together? Here? Back at home? Were they official?
At the smell of coffee, Anya stirred, turned onto her back, and hummed softly. The covers slid down, revealing the gentle slope of her breasts, and Gemma’s breath stopped. The view was even more gorgeous in the morning sunlight falling through the window.
Anya opened her eyes and stretched luxuriously; her fingers slid down over one brown nipple to rest on her stomach. “Mm, coffee?” she asked hopefully, her eyes bright and happy, full of joy.
Gemma swallowed through her dry throat and picked up a cup. “I only have instant.”
“Mm, that’s okay. We’ll go for proper lattes later. I have to show my girlfriend off at my new coffeeshop, after all. Not to mention, take her out on a date.”
“You do?”
Anya grinned. “Of course. But that’s for later. Much later. Coffee first, and then I want you back in this bed. I’m going to rock your world, miss.”
Gemma laughed, her heart expanding with happiness. “You already did.”
About Kate Fierro: Kate Fierro spent ten years translating, editing and reviewing other people’s words before making an impulse decision to write down some of her own. She hasn’t been able to stop ever since. Kate lives in Europe and is bilingual, with more love for her adopted language than her native one. Her debut novel, Love Starved, was published by Interlude Press in 2015.
Gilded Scales
by Julia Ember
The boys formed a line in front of the aeldorman’s throne. Today, they would receive the golden armbands that marked them as warriors. Two attendants wove in and out of the line, sprinkling them with dried goat’s blood and iron filings. The boys stood shirtless, skin pimpled with cold. On their bare chests they had painted the symbols of their patron gods in vivid blue dye. A circle for Hursa, goddess of horses and the earth. A jagged wave for Brim, lord of the oceans. A shield for the warrior god Cempa, slayer of monsters. A cross, for the new Christian god some in the village had adopted.
Fenn glowered as her brother, who had never so much as swung an axe and was more likely to slay a giant with his terrible singing than with a sword, waited to be called forward. Anselm glanced over his shoulder at her and smirked, his expression rubbing salt into her already wounded pride. Under the table, Fenn wove her fingers together and fluttered her hands like wings, a rude gesture that evoked the winged god, Flfer, and his cowardice. Fenn knew that Anselm had noticed, because even in the dim candlelight of the Mead Hall, she saw his cheeks flush.
Beside her on the long bench, Ma shook her head and pinched Fenn’s thigh.
Aeldorman Wulfgar called the first boy. Cedric had broad shoulders, arms roped with muscle, and a roguish smile that had once made Fenn’s stomach squirm. He shot a bow with so much precision even Pa called him skilled, though Fenn’s footwork with a blade was much better.
He stepped forward to the throne and took a knee. Wulfgar rested his hand on Cedric’s honey-colored curls. The aeldorman wore a jeweled ring on each of his bony fingers, and so many bracelets circled his slender arms that he appeared to wear gauntlets of gold.
“Will you pledge to serve me faithfully?” the aeldorman asked.
Cedric mumbled his response. Fenn scoffed into her mug of mead. How hard was it to say yes with some conviction? If she had been up there, her voice would have projected so the entire hall could hear.
Ma leaned over and pressed her lips to Fenn’s ear. “Try to be happy for him. This is a big day for Cedric and for your brother.”
Fenn crossed her arms and looked pointedly away from Ma. She had pled her case before Aeldorman Wulfgar a hundred times, asking him to let her make the oath and become a warrior. And each time, he had said the same thing: Warrior maidens are just myths. You’re a pretty girl, Fenn. Go home and find a husband.
She knew that he meant Cedric. The whole village, including her family and Cedric himself, all expected it.
The aeldorman held out the armband. It was expertly crafted with three distinct ropes of gold, twisted together to form a braid and an enormous cerulean-blue gemstone at its center. Such a gift was a mark of the aeldorman’s high esteem for Cedric.
Cedric dipped his head as he accepted his band so his shaggy blonde hair fell into his face. He tried to push it back, but a lock stuck to his lips. Fenn had kissed him once. Their teeth had bumped together. And Cedric had sort of engulfed her mouth; his upper lip brush
ed the tip of her nose. When they’d pulled apart, he’d left a trail of moisture behind that had felt more like snot than romance.
It wasn’t fair that he got to become a warrior and earn glory in the eyes of the gods when she could not. The injustice of it made Fenn feel like screaming and storming out of the hall. But when Cedric turned to face the rest of the hall, his eyes sought out Fenn’s for her approval, and she softened just a little.
The aeldorman worked his way through the line of boys. He called each of them in turn and prompted them to swear the oath. Then he offered them a tapered golden armband. None were as grand as the band he had given Cedric, but they were still the most valuable things most of the boys would ever own.
When it was Anselm’s turn, he gave Fenn another sly smile before he took a knee. She wanted to hurl her mug at the back of her brother’s head. She doubted he’d be quick enough to duck.
To Fenn’s further irritation, Anselm didn’t stumble as he spoke the words of his oath. His voice rang out true and clear, and, when he rose, everyone in the room applauded. His armband was a little too big and it slipped down his bicep to cradle in his elbow. But by all the laws of the kingdom, he was a recognized as a warrior now, no longer a child. He could vote in the council and own a farm freehold. He could take a spouse and raise a family.
He could be called to war at any time.
Without an armband, Fenn couldn’t fight or own property or even decide whom she would marry. Her father would give her to a husband, and then she would be his, whether that was what she wanted or not. Such were the laws in Lindeshelm, in all of Ebrauc. And it had always struck Fenn as ironic that, in order to be truly free, she needed a band of a metal that looked like a chain.
Ma scooted down the bench to make room, and Anselm wedged himself next to Fenn. Something hot burned in her chest. She couldn’t tell if it was pride or anger or a bit of both.
Her brother picked up his mug and took a long drink. His chin trembled ever so slightly, and his eyes glistened with restrained tears. His breathing was shallow and rapid. He had put on a show for his friends, but Fenn was reminded that this was not what Anselm wanted either. Against their father’s wishes and Fenn’s understanding, her brother had converted to the new faith. He wanted to travel to the monastery on the coast, to pray and meditate and learn to read. She wrapped her arm around his back and gave him a squeeze.
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