Wait For It

by Michele L. Rivera

  The interior of Steep reminds me a lot of what my bedroom looked like when I was a teenager. It’s dimly lit, but there are illuminating lava lamps strategically placed all around the café. On the walls, in different colors, handwriting styles, and fonts are quotes from books and poems. There are a few pieces of upholstered furniture and a gaudy, orange, leather sofa, where customers can sit in lieu of traditional seating at a table. There are six individual tables set up in the center of the room and one in the back right corner that has two chairs on either side of it. A denim jacket hangs from the back of one of the chairs and it must belong to Abby because it’s located in the direction she is leading me to.

  We reach the vacant table and Abby goes over to the barren chair that I thought would be mine. I come to a standstill next to the table and watch as she pulls the chair out. She glances up at me and smiles.

  “Your seat awaits,” Abby says to me.

  Her gesture leaves me flustered and for a second, I just stand there. “Uh.” I blink, mentally snapping myself out of my stupor. “Thank you. That’s um…nice of you.” I sit and Abby pushes the chair in an inch or two.

  “You’re welcome.” Abby moves towards the chair opposite mine and seats herself. She passes me one of the drink menus lying on the table and I take it.

  “Thank you,” I say knowingly sounding like a broken record.

  Both of Abby’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “You’re quite the conversationalist, aren’t you?”

  She’s sassy, and I like it. She makes me want to liberate my own sass. I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m just warming up.”

  The left side of Abby’s mouth turns up in a smile. “Good.”

  We both take a look at our menus. I try to read from the long list of beverages so that I can choose a drink, but I can smell her from across the table and it’s distracting in the best of ways.

  Abby puts down her menu and glances up at me only to find that my eyes are already on her. She smiles again, lips pressed together. Then she speaks. “I know what I’m getting. You?”

  “Tea. Black.”

  “Whoa.” Abby smirks. “Look at you and your refined palate.”

  I shrug. “My tongue likes what it likes.” WHAT? Oh no. No. No. No. That came out so wrong. What are you doing? I wonder if it would be completely weird if I crawled under the table. Probably.

  Abby bites her bottom lip. So fucking sexy. My thoughts immediately veer in the direction of all things inappropriate.

  “Really?” She asks, coyly. “What else does this tongue of yours like?”

  I feel my cheeks blazing. Quick. Make a joke. “Women.” I widen my eyes. “Duh.”

  “Ah. Of course.” Abby shakes her head, chuckling a bit. “You’re quick.”

  “I try.”

  “Nice recovery there,” Abby says.

  Oh, come on. She couldn’t have possibly caught that. “What?”

  Abby purses her lips. “Next time, try delivering the joke without the major blush.”

  Busted. My face heats up even more. “Noted.”

  Abby laughs. “Sorry. You’re an easy read.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “It’s kind of adorable,” she says.

  Her compliment makes me feel giddy. I am suddenly a thirteen-year-old girl. Awesome.

  “Sure it is.” My tone is dry.

  “It is!” Abby says emphatically. “But now I’m curious.”

  “About?”

  She folds her arms in front of her on the table “What else makes you blush.”

  My stomach flies away. Abby is not asking me; she is simply speaking her thoughts aloud.

  “Uh.” I clear my throat.

  Abby smiles. “You don’t have to tell me…at least not until the third date.”

  I swallow. Is she already planning on a third date? We haven’t even had a second date. Hell, we haven’t even finished our first date. I have to tell her about the open relationship I’m in with Reese. There has to be a way to do this with finesse.

  “Right.” I bend the top edges of my menu and avoid eye contact. “What kind of tea are you going to get?”

  “Green.”

  “Cool.” I continue bending the plastic corners of the menu I’m holding.

  “Parker?”

  I look up at her. Damnit. She foiled my no eye contact plan. “Yeah?”

  “I was kidding…about a third date.”

  “Sure. Sure. I know,” I say unconvincingly and I’m kind of disappointed.

  “Because there needs to be a second before there can be a third date. Am I right?”

  I have to smile at how bold she is. My disappointment fades. “You are correct.” Tell her about Reese. “But I…there’s this thing you should know about me.”

  “Wait.” Abby’s countenance becomes serious. “Can I guess?”

  I crinkle my nose. “It might be better if I just tell you.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “Or it could be that bad,” I counter.

  Abby squints. “Are you dying?”

  I gasp. “What? No!”

  She nods. “Alright. That’s good.” She runs thumb over her chin. “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Are you secretly heterosexual?” Abby asks.

  I frown. “No. Will you—”

  “I got it!” She leans forward on the table. “Do you turn into something magical at midnight? Like a fairy or a unicorn or an alicorn? Because that would be rad.”

  “No, I don’t turn into anything. I don’t even know what an alicorn is.”

  Abby’s expression falls and she theatrically places her both of her hands over her heart. “You’re killing me softly.”

  “What is it?”

  She takes a deep breath. “A winged unicorn.”

  “Okay. I’ll be sure to retain that information.”

  “You better,” Abby says.

  “I will.”

  “Good.” Abby puts her hands back on the table. “So, you were saying that there’s something you have to tell me and this guessing thing clearly isn’t working in my favor.”

  “You’re done? You’re going to let me speak?”

  “You have the floor,” Abby says.

  “Alright. You might hate me,” I warn.

  Abby shakes her head. “Highly doubtful, but try me.”

  “It’s complicated.” I begin. “I’m in—”

  “Hello, ladies!” A tall, voluptuous woman chirps at Abby and me. “I’m Penelope. I’ll be your server. Do you know what you’re having or do you need some more time to decide?”

  Abby pats my hand with her own, and my temperature rises from her touch. She smiles at our waitress.

  “Hi, Penelope,” Abby says. “We’ll take a black tea and a green tea. Regular size on both of those please.”

  Penelope nods. “Will there be anything else?”

  Abby looks at me. “Anything else?”

  “I’m good,” I say.

  Abby turns back to our server. “That will be all, thanks.”

  Penelope’s eyes bounce between Abby and me then she smiles at us perceptively. We must have that first lesbian date vibe going on. Terrific.

  “I’ll have your drinks up shortly,” Penelope assures us and walks away.

  I stare over at Abby, hyper-conscious that her hand is still on top of mine. “You didn’t have to order for me.”

  “Maybe I wanted to.”

  “Maybe I was going to change my order last minute and now you’ve just gone and ruined my tea drinking experience,” I retort.

  Abby’s left eyebrow arches with skepticism. “Were you going to change your order?”

  “No.”

  She chuckles. “Why are you giving me a hard time then? I was being a gentlewoman.”

  I bite back a laugh. “That’s not even a thing.”

  “Well, it is now.” Abby smirks. “So, Parker, you were about to dive into some monologue or something. Hit me.”

  I must
er a second wind of courage and go to speak. “The thing is—”

  “Aaaand, here are your teas!” Penelope announces as she approaches our table.

  Sweet Jesus, Penelope, could your timing be any more inconvenient? I give Penelope a stiff smile. “Thanks so much.”

  Our server carefully takes the teacups, one at a time, from her tray and places them on our table. “If you girls decide you want anything else, give me a holler,” she says and retreats.

  Abby lifts her hand off mine. Instantly, I miss the warmth of her skin. I watch her hold the mug of green tea with both hands. She brings the cup to her mouth, blows on the steaming liquid and sips it cautiously. I pinch the handle of the other mug and slide it closer to myself.

  “How’s your tea?” I ask Abby after she swallows.

  “Mmm. Delish.”

  “Good. So what I’ve been trying to tell you is that—”

  “Aren’t you going to try yours?” Abby asks.

  “Yes. But first, we have to talk.”

  “Yikes.” Abby winces. “Worst words ever to say to someone.”

  “Sorry?”

  “No worries.” She waves my phraseology away. “Carry on.”

  “Abby, I want you to know that I’m…” Sickness surges through me and I try to wash it down with a mouthful of my tea.

  “Are you okay?” Abby’s voice is full of concern.

  I shake my head and shakily put my cup on the table. “I’m in a…the way my life is…there’s a person,” I stammer.

  She places her mug in its saucer. “A person?”

  “I have girlfriend,” I blurt out.

  I see Abby’s jaw become taut, but otherwise, her features remain impassive. “Am I the other woman? Are you cheating on her right now…with me?”

  I exhale slowly, my shoulders slumping forward, and I shake my head. My eyes, however, never leave Abby’s face. “No. I’m not cheating. She knows I’m out on a date.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m in an open relationship,” I explain.

  Abby nods, processing my revelation. “Does she date other people too or just you?”

  “We both do.”

  “Is that why you’ve been so nervous? Were you scared to tell me?” She asks.

  “That’s part of it, yes.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  I need her to know that I don’t want her to leave. I summon more bravery and reach across the table. It’s my turn now. I gently lay my fingers on her left hand. “I didn’t…I don’t want you to leave.”

  Abby glances at my fingers, then at me. “Why?”

  I feel my rapid heartbeat through my neck. “Because I like you.”

  “You hardly know me.”

  The girl has a point. “I want to know you, though.”

  “Why?” She asks again.

  I half-smile at her. “You intrigue me.”

  Her mouth puckers for a moment before she speaks. “And because you think I’m pretty.”

  “No.”

  Abby gapes. “Ouch.”

  No! Oh, fuck! Fix that! “No, no. You misunderstood.” I swallow. “I don’t think anything. I know. I know you’re pretty.”

  “So suave.” Abby grins.

  “I’m trying. Give a girl a break, will you?” I plead.

  “You’re kinda cute when you’re desperate.”

  “I’m not desperate,” I say. “I’m determined.”

  “Determined to what?”

  “To get you to stay. To get to know you.”

  Abby turns her hand over beneath mine so that my fingers are now touching her palm. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

  I breathe in relief. “No.”

  “No,” she agrees. “Now, about the whole getting to know each other thing…we should really get on that.”

  “Wait. You’re not fazed?” I ask.

  “That you’re in an open relationship? No.”

  “You’re not silently judging me?”

  Abby’s brow furrows. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugs. “I’m new age and shit.” A sportive smile spreads across her lips. “Besides I thought I made it clear…I like you too.”

  Chapter Nine

  Abby and I finished drinking our teas over an hour ago and have since split a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich masquerading as some fancy fare in pita bread. At one point, the melted peanut butter dripped onto Abby’s thumb and she licked it off unapologetically, gifting me with an image I won’t soon forget. She wasn’t trying to be seductive, but something about seeing her tongue in motion made me tingle in places I didn’t know could tingle.

  We have discussed our favorite books, our favorite movies, and some of our favorite musicians. We have a lot in common, it’s uncanny. When I couldn’t recall the title of a song, I hummed the tune and Abby unabashedly began singing along, proud of herself for knowing every single lyric. That was the moment I knew. The realization was disconcerting, but instead of denying it, I decided to accept it because I don’t know how to keep it from happening. So I just continued humming.

  The tables surrounding ours quickly became our audience, and some people even applauded our performance once it was over. Abby bowed at the onlookers and we both burst out laughing. Abby has a great laugh. It’s infectious. In addition to any of the novels and music we previously mentioned that evening, her laugher is now one of my favorite things ever. And when I make her laugh, I feel victorious.

  Abby catches her breath to find that I have already stopped laughing and am presently staring at her, admiring the dimple in her left cheek.

  “What is it, suddenly solemn one?” Abby asks.

  “Huh? Oh. Nothing.”

  “Were you checking me out?”

  “Wha—no.”

  Abby grins and points an accusing finger at me. “Yeah, you were.”

  “My. Aren’t we arrogant?”

  “Not really. More observant, I would say.”

  I roll my eyes. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.” She absolutely knows what she is talking about.

  “Okay. My mistake.” Abby glances at the ceiling thoughtfully then her gaze falls back on me. “Might I suggest, though, in the event that you ever were going to check me out…or anyone for that matter, you should really try to be more discreet.”

  My mouth drops. “Hey now! I was totally being discreet!”

  Abby slams her palm against the table and erupts in another fit of laughter. “Ha ha! Gotcha! You just incriminated yourself!”

  I frown. “Not cool, Abby. Not cool.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” Abby says, pouting playfully. “If you’d like, I can give you some tips.”

  “On how to check out girls?”

  “Um. Yeah.”

  “Because you’re a pro at it or something?” My question oozes with sarcasm.

  “Well, you didn’t seem to notice that I’ve been checking you out since we got here.” Abby’s tone is humorless. “That said, if you want to call me a pro, I’m not going to argue.”

  Our eyes meet and all the blood in my body flows downward. I want to cross my legs, but that would be far too conspicuous. Stay composed.

  I nod. “You’re right. I can be oblivious at times and evidently this is one of those times.” I mindlessly fiddle with the buttons on the cuff of my shirt. Perhaps I can use this opportunity to tactfully find out her age. “How old were you then when you became a professional…checker outer?” A what?!

  Abby tips her head to the side, cringing. “Um. No. That’s not even a thing.” She teasingly mimics me from earlier.

  “It is now.” I tease back, an impish grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. I surprise myself a little with how easy it is for me to flirt with her. Flirting is not usually my forte.

  “Touché.”

  My grin expands, probably looking less like a sexy rock star and more like a murderous clown. I put my hand over my mouth and start phony hacking up a lu
ng. Yeah because that’s any better.

  Abby crosses her arms over her chest, patiently waiting me out but clearly not buying my stunt. “Are you alright?” She asks when I become quiet.

  “Me? Totes.”

  “Then ask me what you really want to ask me.”

  There is no way she uncovered the question within my question. “Excuse me?”

  “You want to know how old I am, don’t you?”

  “Er. No. That’s not what I was going for,” I say.

  “Wasn’t it?”

  Yes. “No. But in the spirit of getting acquainted, you can tell me your age.”

  “Parker, Parker, Parker.” Abby sighs. “You forget that you’re such an easy read.”

  I groan, defeated. “Okay. Fiiine! Yes. I want to know how old you are.”

  Abby puts her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her palms. Her smile returns. “How old do you think I am?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  I glower at her, but there’s an unspoken understanding between us that I’m not actually angry. “Are you having fun?”

  “Yup.”

  I furnish a tight-lipped smile. “Twenty-one-ish?”

  Abby snorts. “You’re wrong. I’m twenty-four.”

  I quickly do the subtraction in my mind. She is seven years my junior. “Ooo. Yeah. See, I’m thirty-one.”

  Abby raises her eyebrows. “Do you want an award?”

  “Har har. No,” I say. “Abby, there’s a ginormous age difference between us.”

  “It’s a seven-year difference. ‘Ginormous’ is a bit of an overstatement.”

  “Aren’t you perturbed by that?”

  Deep wrinkles develop in Abby’s forehead. “No, but you seem to be. Why’s that?”

  “I…it’s just…don’t you want someone closer to you in age?”

  “Do you think I’m immature?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” She asks. “Are you being insecure about your own age?”

  Damn! She’s good. “Well, there’s the chance that that could be the case.”

  “Ah. Gotcha,” Abby says. “But self-inflicted anguish is completely passé this season.”

  I let out a small chuckle. “Right. So, you don’t think I’m old?”

  “Hell yes! I think you’re a freaking antique.” Abby snickers for a second then her face becomes serious before speaking again. “I’m into it though.”