Nocere

by Max Ellendale

  "Chicken tacos are my favorite," she said. "I hope that's okay."

  "I eat everything. It's totally okay. Thank you for cooking. I didn't expect that."

  "It makes me happy to cook for someone else." She set two plates down beside the utensils and we tucked in to dinner.

  "I don't cook often," I told her. "Simple things like pasta or chicken are my mains."

  "I'm not much different. Normally, I just eat at the cafeteria at work." She pointed to the shells. "Hard or soft?"

  "Both of course." I chuckled and she handed me one of each. "What movie did you pick out?"

  "Tell It to the Bees. Heard of it?"

  I shook my head while fixing up a soft shell taco first. Chicken, cheese, and sour cream preceded the veggies. "I haven't. Is it an indie film?"

  "It is. From 2018 so it's a few years old. Historical lesbian romance. What do you think of that?"

  "I think I'll enjoy it. I pretty much only watch or read lesbian fiction. Anything with a straight romance doesn't sit well with me. Especially if it's one of those corny Hallmark or Lifetime movies that only show a little kissing every now and then." I found myself talking freely in Samirah's presence, and part of me couldn't understand what she'd done to lower my inhibitions so much. Only Alex or Ainsley heard this much chatter from me.

  "Blegh. Those movies are cheesy, but some are okay. I agree with the lesbian fiction. I need a strong female lead to drive my interest," she said before biting into a crunchy shell. "Yum. These are better than expected."

  "Best tacos I've had in ages. What'd you season it with?"

  "A package mix." She laughed and pointed to the blue box behind her. "Thank Ortega."

  "I'm grateful for Ortega and for the chef."

  "The chef is grateful for the company," she said, her smile ever-present tonight. "How was work today?"

  "Busy. I have to present some of my findings to the department heads on Monday morning. It's common, but I have to prepare for their questions," I told her. A hint of surprise made it to my awareness when I noted how comfortably we spoke. "I feel like I've known you a lot longer."

  "I share the sentiment. I realized asking you how work was sounded rather comfortable." She licked a bit of sour cream from her lip before reaching for a napkin. "I'm okay with it."

  "Me too. Do you start back to work Monday?"

  "I do. I have one on-call weekend a month with this new position, instead of on-call whenever. It was one of the reasons that I changed companies."

  "Do you like U.W. Medical?"

  "I do. It's a good hospital with great staff. Stella became a fast friend."

  "What's it like being an anesthesiologist?"

  "Well," she began, setting down her fork that she used to eat the fallen bits of taco, then took a sip of pop. "People going into surgery are usually scared, even if they don't show it. When they meet me, I hope to make them feel safe and taken care of before they go under sedation. I hold their trust while I monitor them during the procedure, and keep them without pain or discomfort during and after. It's rewarding in its own right most of the time."

  "Did you always want to go into that field?" I asked, resting my arms on the table after finishing my third taco.

  "Not always. I wanted to be a surgeon and I did a few rotations in general surgery, but the idea of anesthesiology just struck me. It's a delicate balance, a dance even, and a challenge. Each patient is different. It was also a practical move. Financially sound, with job security. I wanted to make sure I could take care of myself. Or my mom if I needed to. At the time, my husband and kids if we had them."

  "I can understand that. What did your husband do?" I asked.

  "Orthopedics." She chuckled and shook her head. "He didn't need to be taken care of, but I still felt that way."

  "Wow. Talk about a power couple." My brows lifted while I chewed a bite of dinner.

  "More like an exhausted couple. We barely had time together because of our fellowships and eventual positions. We grew apart...and I grew gayer." She offered me a cheeky smile and I laughed.

  "How'd you know for sure you were into women?"

  "You know all those television shows about doctors and nurses hooking up at work?" She gestured toward the T.V. and I nodded. "Well, it happens. I hooked up with a nurse I met. We had a brief fling and I knew it was what I wanted. Women are just...perfect."

  "Why did it end with her?" My ability to ask Samirah rather probing questions struck me as unusual. She welcomed them and answered readily.

  "She and I were both way too dominant. We clashed a lot. She was also in love with a woman for years and we were strictly a friends-with-benefits situation," she explained. "My twenties were interesting."

  "Mine were rather drab," I said, smirking through it.

  "When did you know you were gay, Rosie?"

  "Young. Thirteen or fourteen. In foster care and group homes, you meet all kinds of people. I met other queer kids and I just knew. I also distrusted men and boys at that point, for reasons we both understand." I shrugged then sipped my drink. "I kissed a girl for the first time on Valentine's Day when I was fourteen. It was a nice memory."

  "That's really cute. When was the last time you dated someone seriously?" she asked, then helped herself to another round of tacos.

  "Seriously?" I shrugged, folding my napkin in my lap. "I'm not sure. Most of my relationships have been either short-lived or hookups. The last girl I dated told me I was too quiet and that I agreed to things too easily. She ghosted me after that."

  "What did she think you agreed to?"

  "I'm not sure. But to me it seemed like she expected me to bicker over small things. Why is that necessary? I have bigger things to worry about."

  "Well, you deserve better than that. And more respect than being ghosted," she said earnestly as her brow narrowed. "For the record, I don't think you're too quiet or too agreeable."

  "At least not yet."

  "Fair point."

  "What about you? When was the last time you dated someone seriously?" I tossed her question right back at her.

  "Last year, I dated a woman for a few months. We wanted different things and I decided to end it."

  "What did she want that you didn't?"

  "Kids and marriage right away. I might be a fast mover in other regards, but not when it comes to big commitments and things like that. I've had a failed marriage already, and kids aren't something I see myself ready for right now. She wanted that within six months and she hadn't even visited my apartment, and we saw each other maybe once a week."

  "Doesn't seem like you were very in love with her." The observation tumbled from my lips. My analytical mind, always assessing, always checking, began to understand Samirah more as time went on. Her micro-movements—the way she moved her mouth, her eyebrows, her hands—spoke of a language all her own, and I only just began to understand it.

  Samirah tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "I wasn't."

  "Why not?"

  "I'm not sure. I just...wasn't."

  "Have you ever been?"

  "Perhaps briefly." She shrugged, dragging a bite of chicken from her fork with her lips. "Have you?"

  I shook my head. "Not yet."

  "What would it take for you to fall in love with someone?"

  My thoughts jumbled about as I searched for an answer to her question while wiping off a spot of sauce from the edge of my dish. "Feeling safe. Cared for. Made a priority."

  "That sounds very nice, Rosie."

  "Sounds like three wishes made to a genie." I folded my napkin and set it on top of my empty plate. "Dinner was delicious. Thank you for making it."

  "Any time. I also make a killer pot roast. Maybe next time I'll make that for you," she said, her smile broadening when she narrowed her eyes. "Assuming you'll accept my next invitation."

  I laughed softly as I lifted my dish to tote it to the sink. "Maybe. Don't ghost me."

  "I won't." Samirah reached her arm out, her fingers
grazing my side. "You don't have to clean up."

  My stomach flip-flopped under the gesture and I paused beside her. "It's okay."

  "Something tells me…" She stood up slowly and urged the plate from my hands. "That you're used to feeling like a burden to people. And keeping yourself neatly tucked together, without making an imprint on the environment of others, is a way to keep those feelings at bay."

  I met her gaze as the truth she spewed struck me hard. My resolve wavered when she exposed one of my faulted beliefs rooted in years of foster care.

  "You're not a burden to me. I am happy to share my space with you." She set the plate down on the counter beside her own. "Remnants of your visits make me smile." Every phrase, every word she spoke brought an air of deliberateness. I watched her mouth as the words left her lips and sent cooling shivers down my spine.

  "Okay," I nearly whispered as I fought the mist that rose to my eyes and the tightening in my throat. I held her gaze, her pretty hazel eyes scanning my face.

  Samirah brushed my hair from my shoulders in a gentle caress. "Can I kiss you?"

  I nodded my affirmation and she poked a single finger under my chin before leaning in to close the space between us. Her lips, warm and delicate against mine, somehow made her confession seem more genuine, sealing it like a promise. I allowed myself to stroke the long strands of her hair that fell down her front while she poked her tongue against my lips. Every inch of me burned and raged with desire to melt under her. I ached to feel the weight of her, and the tangle of our limbs in a full-body embrace.

  Samirah's thumbs stroked my cheeks, and I let my hand fall to the center of her chest when our kiss ended.

  "Tell me your thoughts," she whispered. "What are you thinking?"

  "That no one has ever kissed me the way you do…"

  "What are you feeling?" She nudged my chin up again and I realized I'd dropped my gaze for a moment.

  I grew quiet while I attempted to formulate my answer. How could I tell her how I felt? What I wanted? My fingers toyed with the button of her blouse as I feared her moving away.

  "That I like when you're close to me," I managed, and her hands lowered to stroke my arms.

  "I enjoy being close to you very much." She placed a soft kiss on my forehead and I nearly melted on the spot. "Can I hug you?"

  "Yes," I said, braver than before, and chuckled when she pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around her and brushed my lips over the curve of her shoulder. Her arms encircled me, and the heat of her body soothed our connection. A soft sigh left me, and the buzzing ache of anxiety in my sternum faded when she squeezed me.

  Samirah's lips grazed the space below my ear before she kissed it. "How about we settle on the sofa together under a cozy blanket while indulging in wine and dessert?"

  "I'd like that," I said, leaning back when she did, my knees weaker than before. "What can I do to help?"

  Samirah brushed her knuckles over my cheek. "Watch me."

  "Watch you?" My brow furrowed and I searched her expression for clarity.

  "Get comfy on the sofa and watch me as I pour us some wine, then bring everything to the living room," she said, gesturing to the sofa.

  "You...want me to do that?"

  She nodded as a smile curved her plump lips that I ached to kiss again. "I do."

  "Why?"

  "Because I really like the way you look at me," she confessed, and tucked my hair behind my ears. "Will you do that?"

  "I'll watch you. But I feel like I should be helping." I twirled a tendril of her hair around my finger, noting how the two of us shared an affinity for each other's hair. Her thick, dark, silky strands weren't anything like mine.

  "You can work on allowing someone to do something just for you, while I work on accepting that someone can look at me the way you do," she said, her voice soft. "How's that?"

  "Meaningful," I agreed, nodding as we parted. I headed to the sofa, and sat on my knees while I gazed at her from over the back of it.

  Samirah smiled at me, her eyes twinkling in the bright kitchen light as she poured two glasses of Riesling, then opened the bakery box to set the pastries on a small tray. The way she moved, with precision and grace, melted my insides and made me wonder what she looked like while at work. Did her feet sweep the floor while she wore scrubs and sneakers the same way they did in tight jeans and soft socks? Probably not. A scrub top wouldn't do her figure justice like her blouse. I leaned my chin on my hand and she let out a small laugh.

  "You're so cute. Like a tiny little fairy I could pluck from a tree branch to kiss," she said, her grin broadening. "Did you know?"

  "What kind of fairy?" I couldn't wipe the smile from my face while I listened to her.

  "A nature fairy who spends most of her time illuminating the woods with her tiny spheres of light. They're shy and keep away from humans. Mainly interacting with animals and plant life. You're the type of fairy that, if I were lost in the woods, you'd help me to safety, but you'd keep hidden behind the trees to make sure you could trust me to keep your secrets." Her story left her lips while she carried first the wine, then the pastries to the coffee table. "I think your fairy color would be lavender."

  "Your Irish is showing, Sam." I snickered when she dropped down to sit across from me.

  "My daddy taught me all about the fairies so that I could pluck you from your hiding spot." She wiggled her fingers at me as if threatening a tickle and I squeaked, holding my hands up in front of me. "Just your reaction alone tells me you're ticklish."

  "I am." I laughed and grabbed her hands before she could go any further. Her amusement matched mine and she brought my hands to her lips for a kiss.

  "Me too. But only in some places."

  "If I'm a fairy, what does that make you?" I asked, then looked at my feet when she pointed at my boots.

  "A genie," she said. "Taking off shoes makes couch cuddling easier, you know."

  "Does it?" I chuckled and pulled my knees up to unzip each boot before setting them on the floor. "My socks are purple. Maybe your fairy color was right."

  "See?" She snickered and nipped my cheek before lifting a small éclair from the pastry tray.

  "Why are you a genie?" I watched her as she poked at the remotes that turned on the television and streaming movie application.

  "I like to grant wishes."

  "Fairies do that, too. Like the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella."

  "Well then." She turned back to me after taking a small bite of the éclair. "We're in the wish business together. This is great by the way. Want a bite?"

  "Sure." I held my hand to her. Instead of the dessert, she placed her palm on top of mine then leaned closer, holding the food out for me to taste. My gaze met hers, and only after a brief hesitation, I accepted the offering. My lips wrapped around the chilled confection, and I took a bite. Cold cream met my tongue along with the dough and chocolate icing. I licked my lips after and my brows lifted. "Very yummy."

  "It is." Samirah's hand rose to my face, and she used her thumb to brush away a bit of chocolate from my lips. She smiled before licking it off her thumb. "Absolutely delicious."

  To say I nearly melted on the spot wouldn't do it justice. Heat rushed my face, and burned at the apex of my thighs. Samirah's gentle yet clandestinely erotic gesture ignited the ache of want in my belly, and it had nothing to do with pastries.

  My eyes fell to her lips as she finished the last bite then lashed her tongue over her bottom lip. The opening sequence of the movie startled me when the volume kicked on. Samirah pulled a blanket from the arm of the sofa before shaking it out to full size. She held her arm to me and without a second thought, I scooted closer to her, tucking my knees against her thighs while I settled with her. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, and draped the blanket over our laps.

  "Comfortable?" she asked, and I nodded. "You can touch me, Rosie. However you want to." She glanced to the way I kept my arms huddled against my chest. I hadn't noticed it until then, then re
laxed enough to drape one arm across her middle. In this position, my head fell naturally to her shoulder, and she pressed her lips to my forehead again.

  "Better," I said and she smiled.

  "Much." Her body angled toward me as we, indeed, cuddled together on the sofa.

  Our attention turned to the movie, and away from each other for a little while. Samirah's chin came to rest against my forehead when I allowed myself to relax on her shoulder. Our last two dates became fonts of unusualness in my dating playbook. Normally, dinner or a movie in a theater meant date. Even a cup of coffee or a drink at Wildrose, but this was different. I didn't hate it, and my comfort in her presence grew with each interaction. Samirah stroked my arm, rubbing in a soft up and down motion which encouraged me to squeeze her around the middle. Even in the dim light, she was the most attractive woman I'd ever met. Or at least it felt that way.

  Half way through the movie, when the two protagonists finally admitted their attraction to each other and fell into bed, both of us shifted in our seats. Neither of us acknowledged it, though my heart thumped louder in my chest.

  "Stop it here," I said after the happiness of the two women seemed to reach a peak.

  "How come?" Samirah clicked pause on the remote then met my gaze, her brow wrinkled with concern.

  "Because it's going to get sad now. I can just tell. Let's just leave it while it's happy."

  "Are you sure?"

  "No. I'm being silly, but it's going to get sad. Does this have a happy ending?"

  Samirah chuckled softly and unexpectedly brushed her nose against mine. "I didn't check. I think I've learned a lot about you today, Rosie."

  I closed my eyes under her gesture and my lips grazed hers.

  "Can I kiss you?" she whispered and it made me smile.

  "Of course." I opened my eyes to gaze up at her. "How come you ask me each time?"

  "I want everything we do to be consensual," she said, reaching up to stroke my cheek. "I want you to know that you have the right to decline anything that makes you uncomfortable, no matter what it is."

  "I didn't think of it like that," I said, leaning into her touch.

  "I know what it's like to have things happen without consent and I don't ever want to make you feel that way. Not after what you've gone through." Samirah placed her palm to my cheek and my fingers tensed against her stomach when her words struck me.