by Jane Hardee
Rain often made Michael think of Jess. They had shared a close friendship since the day Michael fought off the older bullies, but Michael knew exactly the moment she fell in love.
It was ninth grade and Jess had begged Michael to walk home with her in the rain rather than take the bus.
“The bus is humid in weather like this. I can’t take it. Plus, the rain is so beautiful,” Jess said, spreading her arms wide to embrace the raindrops.
It wasn’t the first or the last time they walked home in the rain. It was one of Jess’s unique habits that Michael came to adore, such as eating her cheeseburgers with a knife and fork. Or the way she softly touched people on the arm or the leg when she spoke to them, making her friends feel listened to and important when they spoke.
The conversation wasn’t particularly interesting or important. They were discussing Jess’s algebra test.
“I hate algebra. And Mrs. Coleman doesn’t like me. She doesn’t even want me to do well. I have to pass this class or my GPA will be shot. I won’t get into FSU at this rate.”
Despite being bright and enjoying her classes, Jess got nervous about grades. “I know you’ll do great,” Michael said. “You always do great.”
Jess stopped and turned to Michael. Raindrops clung to Jess’s long eyelashes and soaked her hair until they dripped onto the straps of her book bag. The chilly rain turned her cheeks pink. Michael had never seen anything so beautiful. Jess stood still for a moment, wide-eyed and serious, and leaned over to kiss Michael softly on the cheek.
Without thinking, Michael leaned into the kiss. She had never been kissed before by anyone besides family, not even on the cheek. The kiss melted her heart, but Michael backed away and shoved her hands in her front pockets, surprised by her response and trying to play it cool.
Jess looked embarrassed by her impulse. “Thanks for being such a good friend. You mean so much to me, Michael.”
“Don’t mention it.”
From that day on Michael saw Jess in a new light. She sketched Jess surreptitiously whenever she could. At night Michael sketched from memory, using charcoal and large sketchpads to capture Jess’s lyric beauty—the supple, curvy legs; the wide blue eyes; the Cupid’s bow shaping her top lip. Thinking back, she realized she was probably always in love but that was the first day she admitted it. She had been hiding it from Jess and everyone except Camille ever since. She knew their friendship was important to Jess. She wasn’t about to mess that up.
It seemed to be a trend in the lesbian world to date your friends, be friends with exes, date friends’ exes. It was messy and not for her. She hadn’t seriously dated anyone since college, and that was fine. Right now her career was the most important thing, and she wanted to give it all her time and energy. Hard work and good friendships were enough. Good friendships like the one she shared with Jess. Michael was not about to let them turn into some sad, lesbian friendship gone haywire.
Michael paid for her items and left Mason’s just in time to catch the first sprinkle of rain. Her cell rang as she jogged down the sidewalk to her loft a couple blocks away. The caller ID read “Camille.”
“Tell me good news, Camille. Good news only.” She stopped at the elevator gate to catch her breath and wipe the rain from her face.
“How much do you love me?” Camille teased.
“Did I get it?”
“You are meeting tomorrow with the three editors of La Femme Magazine. In New York, New York, baby!”
“Oh, do I love you. More than you will ever know. I have been climbing the walls. You’re the best.” Michael leaned against the elevator as it began its slow climb to her loft.
“I’ve got you scheduled to fly out at six. I know, it’s early for a two o’clock meeting, but it was the best deal I could find. I’ll send you an email with everything else: hotel, contacts at the magazine, all that good stuff. Are you excited?” Camille asked, sounding very pleased.
“You’re sure I’m right for this?” Michael took pride in her work, but this was the big time. How would she fit into a high fashion, fast-paced environment like La Femme? Or New York for that matter?
“Michael, you’re not some dumb hick from the backwoods. You have a breakthrough vision of powerful women and people need to see it. Don’t doubt yourself on this.”
Michael thought about what it would mean for her career if the interview went well. A big project for a well-known magazine would be great publicity—not to mention the work would help keep her mind off Jess.
*
That afternoon, after a lengthy parent-teacher conference, Jess decided to stop by and see Michael on her way home. Being wrapped up in school work, she hadn’t spoken with Michael since Girls Night In. That was Sunday, and it was now Wednesday. They rarely went a day without speaking. Michael had sent her a quick text earlier letting her know the interview in New York was confirmed. Jess hoped things would go well. Michael enjoyed working on small-scale projects that she could sell at art shows and local galleries, but when she worked on commissions she was much happier. Jess could tell how amazing it made Michael feel to be able to bring ideas to life and to see her clients’ response when she completed her work.
Opening her umbrella and making a run to her car, she decided against calling to tell Michael she was coming over. She feared Michael wouldn’t want to see her. Things definitely seemed different between them since they’d kissed. Michael said herself the kiss had been a mistake. She wished Michael had said it was wonderful—that it had tilted her world on its axis and that she was fighting this attraction too. Things were different now. At least for Jess. How could she go back, knowing how much passion could flourish between them?
When she arrived at Michael’s loft, she felt edgy. Jess began having second thoughts. Maybe it was a bad idea to even consider a physical relationship with Michael. Sara’s voice echoed in her head telling her to let it go. Stepping inside the elevator, Jess closed the gate and crossed her arms. She made a deal with herself as the elevator came to a stop. I will not explore this unless it is mutual.
When she walked into the loft and saw Michael sitting at her computer, Jess’s determination went out the window. Michael looked stunning, hair damp from a shower and hanging slightly in her face. She wore a tight white tank top, and Jess could tell she wore no bra.
“Hey,” she said when she finally found her voice.
“Hey,” Michael said, giving a sexy, lopsided grin as she closed her laptop and stood.
Michael wore glasses with stylish thin frames that accented her bone structure, and Jess wondered why she didn’t wear them more often. Michael’s posture was cool and relaxed, and Jess could smell her soap. Jess inhaled her familiar scent.
“Sorry I haven’t called.” Michael put her hands in the pockets of her low-slung jeans. The movement revealed a small expanse of smooth, tan skin below her navel. She shuffled a little closer, and Jess met her halfway. “I’m flying out tomorrow.”
“All packed?” Jess cringed at her lame attempt at conversation and averted her gaze from Michael’s breasts. A warm, tingly feeling rose in her body. “I just wanted to double-check about the trip. Will you be back from New York in time?”
“No worries.” Michael held up her hands. “I’ll be back Friday night. Leaving Saturday morning still okay?”
“Perfecto,” Jess said, keeping her voice even. She had come with the intention of spending some time with Michael, maybe getting some dinner, but she was fast losing control and her pulse was racing. “Well, I just wanted to stop by. I have some paperwork to get done.”
“Okay, don’t work too hard. I’ll pick you up at your place on Saturday. I’ll text you when I get up.” Michael opened the freight elevator for her. Jess watched as Michael’s smooth, muscled arms left bare by her tank top pulled hard to open the heavy gate. Her forearm flexed, showing a sexy contrast of soft skin and hard muscle. Jess swallowed. Her work. Think about her work.
“I’m so proud of you, Michael.” She strok
ed Michael’s forearm before she could stop herself. She reached up with her other hand and cupped Michael’s cheek. “Just wait until those New Yorkers lay eyes on you.” Resisting the urge to run her hands through Michael’s hair, Jess dropped her hands and wrapped her in a hug. “And your work.”
“Thank you,” Michael whispered into her hair.
They separated a couple inches but continued to hold each other. Was she holding Michael or was Michael holding her? Jess looked up into Michael’s eyes, and she was lost. Those dark brown eyes looked right into her heart.
Her eyes drifted downward and her gaze settled on Michael’s lips. It wasn’t her eyes she wanted next to Michael’s lips. It was her mouth, her whole body. Jess could feel the heat of Michael’s breath on her face, and all she could think about was how luscious Michael’s mouth felt when they kissed. She could feel Michael’s eyes watching her. Did she want this too? In the moment it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss Michael’s lips. So she did. Conscious not to move her hands from Michael’s shoulders, Jess leaned forward to press her lips gently and quickly against Michael’s. She kept her eyes open to gauge Michael’s reaction. Michael’s eyes were open too. It lasted only a second, but the firm press of Michael’s lips felt just as amazing as she remembered.
Jess’s nerves overtook her. Slow down. You have to slow this down. Jess stepped away from Michael, shaking a little, and got into the elevator. She put on the most natural smile she could and said again, “I really am so proud of you.”
*
Michael stood without moving for long moments after she heard the elevator stop at the ground floor. What the hell just happened? Michael knew Jess and Morgan sometimes kissed each other hello and good-bye, but quick kisses were not something she and Jess had ever shared. Maybe Jess was overcome with pride and wanted to show Michael how excited she was by giving her a sweet peck on the lips. Michael’s heart tore at the thought of having to endure a new level of affection from Jess when she could barely control herself around her anymore.
And what on earth had possessed her to hug Jess? Was it because she seemed so happy about the news? Was it because she looked so beautiful in her floral skirt and red cardigan? Her hair was slightly damp, and probably not styled the way Jess would have wanted, but Michael thought she looked beautiful. Was that why she’d hugged Jess? Okay, okay, friends hug. It was not a big deal.
We don’t hug like that.
Retrieving her sketchpad from the coffee table, Michael plopped down on the worn sofa. She scolded herself for letting it happen. A friendly hug was one thing…but she had held Jess. Jess was in her arms, and she felt too good to let go. Michael had been unable to tear her eyes away from Jess’s face. She had just begun to feel deep stirrings of desire when Jess moved out of her arms. Relief had washed over her. Relief and regret. Regret that she loved Jess. Regret that Jess didn’t return her feelings. Regret that she wasn’t able to control her emotions or her body’s reaction when Jess was around.
It had felt amazing to hold her. Michael reveled in Jess’s soft curves and the smell of her, so soft and sweet in her arms. Was that how she would be in bed, receptive and pliable? Or would she be bold and demanding, taking charge and moving Michael’s hands where she wanted them? Michael let her head fall back on the couch as her body throbbed. Her hips lifted when she tried to ease the ache in her groin, but any movement of her lower body only heightened her desire.
Damn it.
With a groan, she picked up a red Conti stick. Countless sketchbooks covered Michael’s bookshelves because drawing released her stresses and frustrations. Often she would just start sketching, not even aware of the shapes that would take form. Today’s encounter with Jess gave an erotic flow and movement to her art that she didn’t know she could produce. After several minutes of mindless drawing, Michael looked down to find the curves and valleys of a beautiful nude woman. Jess had no doubt been the inspiration for the sketch, but Michael’s hands were still unable to capture the beauty and grace that defined Jess.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The busyness of the airport at such an early hour surprised Michael. She slung her duffel over her shoulder as she pulled her ticket from the back pocket of her favorite, threadbare jeans. Double-checking the gate number, she pushed through the throng of people toward the concourse. It always seemed so funny to her that a place with so many people could feel so lonely and impersonal. Everyone in such a hurry, eyes down, with bored expressions. Even though she knew many people were greeting loved ones or friends, Michael always equated airports with good-byes.
After grabbing a coffee in the terminal, she waited for her flight to begin boarding. Michael sat her bag in the empty chair next to her and stirred her coffee. It was going to be nice to be away from Atlanta, even if just for the day. She rarely got calls from friends when out of town on business; it allowed her more time to reflect and work. Camille would no doubt be calling, and as thankful as Michael was that Camille had made this opportunity possible, she was in no rush to speak with her either. Every time Michael and Camille had spoken in the last three weeks, Camille would bring up Jess…and not just in a “Hey, how is Jess doing” kind of a way, but a “Tell her you love her” kind of a way. Enough. She wished that Camille didn’t know her true feelings for Jess, but since she did, the least she could do was respect Michael’s decision and stop bringing it up.
The only other person who knew about her unrequited love was her mother, Annabel. Though they had never discussed it openly, Michael suspected her mother knew. Annabel had a way of knowing everything about everyone. When Annabel asked Michael if she was dating anyone, Michael would give her customary reply of being too busy for a relationship. Not long after this, her mother would ask about Jess. How was school going, had they done anything fun lately, or anything else Jess-related? Her mother was also in the habit of pointing out all of Jess’s good qualities as often as possible.
“She is such a pretty girl, isn’t she, Michael? And she is so good to those little children,” Annabel had said last night when Michael called.
“Yes, Mom.” Michael rolled her eyes, glad that her mother couldn’t see her. In high school that would have earned her a smack on the head and extra yard work.
“She will make some woman very happy one day,” her mother continued.
This comment made Michael hurry to get off the phone. She knew it would happen, but she didn’t want to think about the fact that the happy woman in Jess’s future would be someone else. Michael knew her mother meant well, but she also knew Annabel agreed with Camille. She should be honest with Jess, tell her the truth. And risk ruining our friendship. This was something Michael would not, could not do. Michael had seen too many good friendships go to waste on romance. She wasn’t about to put their friendship on the line for the slim chance they might actually be compatible as lovers.
Lovers.
Michael could not even fathom what it would be like to make love to Jess. Until recently, she had never let her mind wander that far into fantasy, but after her most recent dream it was getting harder and harder not to. Michael could imagine touching Jess’s skin. Letting her hands roam over Jess’s feminine curves to cup her…
A woman’s voice came over the loudspeaker to announce Michael’s flight was boarding. Relieved she would maybe be distracted from her thoughts long enough to board the plane, Michael grabbed her duffel bag and headed to the gate.
*
Jess slammed her hand on the snooze button for a fourth time before sitting up and dropping her feet over the side of the bed. She missed the warmth and coziness of her down comforter and Egyptian cotton sheets as soon as she rose. She shuffled into the kitchen of her apartment to start her coffeepot, and her mind wandered to Michael. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. Michael was probably on the plane right now, organizing her sketches and other portfolio work.
When Michael first started sending her portfolio to potential clients, she and Jess w
ould sit for hours with photos spread all over the floor trying to choose which sketches and photos best represented her work. As time went on, Michael became more skilled at assessing her work on her own. Jess always missed those times together. She knew Michael still valued her opinion, but she felt Michael was taking off into a world she knew nothing about. Would she like New York? Would she meet other talented artists? Lesbian artists? Beautiful lesbian artists?
Oh, stop it. It’s not like she is moving there. Jess undressed and attempted to drown her worries with a long, hot, soothing shower.
Jess was thrilled about the great things Michael was accomplishing in her career, but she often wondered if Michael would outgrow Atlanta. After all, how far could she go in a medium-sized city? Didn’t all artists long for the bright lights where they would be recognized? La Femme would certainly get her additional recognition.
The thought saddened her more than anything. On top of feeling sad, it also made Jess feel guilty. How could she possibly be sad about something that meant so much to Michael? Maybe sad wasn’t the feeling. Afraid was more like it.
She’ll be back. Remember that.
Jess hoped Michael would return, but what was holding her in Atlanta? Michael was talented and accomplished and on her way. Would Jess lose Michael to bigger and better things? Jess could not compete with the glitz and glamour of New York, and she was positive she couldn’t compete with the beautiful, high-class lesbians Michael would meet.
*
New York streets bustled with activity, and Michael loved it immediately. Walking down the crowded streets, she struggled to keep pace. Atlanta was not a small city by any means, but Michael had never seen people going in that many different directions at one time. There was something languorous and friendly about Atlanta; there was nothing leisurely or polite about New York. The skyscrapers, taxi horns, and smoky smells created a dramatic feel—harsh and aggressive. It was exciting to think she could be a part of it, yet leaving Atlanta for long wasn’t really in the cards. She loved the South. It was where she grew up and where she wanted to stay.