“What?”
They both exited the elevator.
“It’s just that the last three times we’ve all hung out, Greene was there. You weren’t with a guy; she wasn’t with a woman. Maggie said you guys seemed extra close; her words.” He held his hands up in defense. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Maggie knows I’m straight, Mason,” she replied, lowering her voice as the lobby was teeming with people moving in and out of the building.
“I reiterated that to her. I’m honestly just starting to wonder about it myself,” he added with a look of worry. “Not about you. I guess maybe a little about you. You two do seem really close. You haven’t known her as long as Keira has, but you seem closer to Greene now than Keira is. I’m more concerned that she might be into you.”
Joanna laughed a deep laugh because the thought of Macon Greene – the near ethereal goddess of a woman that could have any other woman, including straight or confused girls at bars – would be into her was impossible to fathom.
“Mason, she isn’t into me like that; trust me. Macon can have anyone she wants.”
“And I think she wants you. Maggie does, too.”
“We’re just friends. Macon isn’t exactly the settling down type. She talks about finding love sometimes, but it’s like she doesn’t think it’s possible. I don’t even think she’d like to be in a relationship.”
“And you’re only a relationship person?”
“Yes, and straight.”
“Maybe talk to Keira about it then. I’ll tell Maggie to give it up, since I told you. She’s been bugging me about it. She really likes Greene. I don’t think she wants her to end up hurt.”
“I really like Macon. She’s probably my closest friend these days. I would never hurt her, Mason.”
“I know.”
“But keep an eye on your girlfriend, though. Seems she might be interested,” Joanna said with a smile and left the building.
Once she’d turned to start her walk home, her smile disappeared. Joanna hadn’t had a lesbian best friend before Macon. Was she doing something wrong? Should she spend less time with her? She tended to touch Macon’s arm sometimes or her shoulder. Maybe she should stop. She might be giving Macon signals. She shook her head as she walked on. Macon Greene liked her as a friend, and that was the end of it. Joanna loved the friendship they’d created seemingly out of nowhere last year. She didn’t want it to change. She made it home just at the realization that she hadn’t dated anyone since she’d met Macon. She’d just confirmed that Macon hadn’t dated anyone in a while either. Maybe it was time she gave Russell a call back after all.
CHAPTER 4
Greene was pissed. And when Greene was pissed, she went to the gym. After leaving Worthy Bash and trying to walk off how frustrated she was, she went through her lessons with the two students that struggled the most. She had little patience for that struggle today. She got home, changed into her workout clothes, and ran to the gym three blocks over, where she first went to the elliptical. She spent twenty minutes there before shifting gears to the treadmill and then headed to the weight room. She wrapped her hands and punched the bag while a trainer, Randy, helped by holding it.
As Greene punched away, feeling the tension in her body build while the tension in her mind released, she thought about maybe asking Randy to go home with her. They could have a nice time together. She watched as Randy watched her. She noted the flash of arousal in the woman’s eyes at Greene’s movements, which were hard and swift. Greene knew Randy was thinking about hard and swift movements in another way. It was that realization that made her stop mid-punch.
She’d had this strange feeling for a while now that she couldn’t identify. She’d been able to deal with it and push it out of her mind, especially when she was playing in rehearsal. Her violin gave her the freedom that nothing else did. For a few hours each day, she could forget about whatever was going on with her. But after that, it would catch up to her, and she’d be left feeling out of sorts.
Earlier, she’d been enjoying hanging out with Joanna, when Keira had interrupted and pissed her off. Keira rarely made her angry. In fact, Greene prided herself on her ability to keep her cool, but Keira had pulled her into an office, like a principal would a student, and scolded her about her friendship with Joanna.
“Make, what the heck are you doing?” she’d asked and sat behind her desk.
“I was hanging out. Now, I’m in your office because you needed to borrow me.” She’d sat in one of the chairs across from Keira’s desk.
“She’s straight, Greene.”
“Who?”
“Joanna Martin.”
“Jo?”
“Yes, Jo. Greene, I’m worried about you. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never been actually interested in a woman. You date them; you charm them; but I’ve never seen you act how you act around her. I’m just worried.”
“You think I’m into Jo and that I’m going to try something with her and be disappointed or something?”
“Are you into her?”
“No, Keira. Contrary to popular belief, I am not interested in every single woman in this city. Or is it the whole country you guys seem to think I’m interested in? The world, maybe? Any woman of age, of course, or a certain level of attractiveness? Or is it just women that I’m able to charm?”
“Greene, that’s not what I mean.”
“Then, what do you mean, Keira? Jo is a friend. You are the reason she and I even met, remember? We helped you out on that party last year.”
“Of course, I remember that.” Keira had leaned forward and clasped her hands together on her desk, making her seem even more like a school principal than before. “You two have been spending more and more time together, Greene. I don’t ever see you alone anymore. It’s like you’re with her all the time. It honestly feels like Emma and I are double dating when the four of us are out, but that’s not the case. I just don’t want you to get your heart broken.”
“So, because I’m spending time with a straight woman, I’m going to get my heart broken?”
“Greene, stop. It’s like you’re trying to fight with me now, when all I’m trying to do is tell you that people are noticing; they’re asking questions. People see how you are with her. I know how she is with you. She cares about you. She’s told me you’re her best friend. I’m scared because I’ve seen your reaction when she touches your arm or gets the hair out of your face, like she did at the wharf when we went to Tarantino’s together. She had her arm through yours, Greene. You were smiling.”
“I was smiling because I was having a good time, Keira. Jesus!” Greene had stood and run a hand through her hair. “I don’t need a lecture from you. Jo and I are friends. I’m fine with that, and I am done with this conversation.”
“Greene, come on. I’m sorry. Hillary and Emma both asked me to–”
“To talk to me? To offer a straight woman intervention?” She’d made her way to the door, gripped the handle, and turned back to her. “I don’t need it, Keira. My life is my life; my friends are my friends; and if I’m enjoying spending time with one of them a little more than the others right now, that’s my decision.” She’d opened the door and walked through it to be met with Joanna’s concerned expression.
After the gym and her walk home, Greene reached for her violin. The orchestra would be doing a Schindler’s List piece to celebrate the John Williams’ score, among other works of his from different films. She’d be featured in one of the pieces, which was violin-heavy, called Remembrances. She enjoyed the piece a lot and felt it evoked perfectly the emotions conveyed in the film.
Greene had never felt like much of a composer herself. Many musicians at her level often played as long as their bodies held up, then – moved onto composing or even conducting. Greene hadn’t planned that far ahead. She could always teach, she thought as she rested her violin on her shoulder. She enjoyed teaching enough. She could teach ten students a day if it came to making e
nds meet, but she felt no pull toward that eventual career path either.
She began the slow piece with her eyes open, referencing her sheet music, before she gave into it. She closed her eyes, letting the music take over and the vibrations from the bow against her instrument reverberate through her body.
◆◆◆
Greene woke to the sound of someone in her kitchen. There shouldn’t be anyone in her kitchen. Greene didn’t bring women back to her apartment; her sanctuary. She lifted herself slowly from her bed, deciding she’d take a peek while reaching for the baseball bat she kept in the corner by the bedroom door. Her friends all had keys to her place. Keira and Hillary both had one, and the person currently making the sounds in her kitchen had one too.
“Jo?”
“Put the bat down and get out here,” Joanna replied.
“Did I know you were coming over? It’s like eight in the morning.”
“I know.” She was working in the kitchen on the espresso machine. “I wanted to check on you. I was going to go for a walk around the city and take some shots. I thought I’d stop by here first and make sure you were okay.” She placed a cup of coffee in front of Greene, who was now sitting on her sofa. “Also, you’re in your underwear.” Joanna pointed and then turned away with a slight red creeping onto her cheeks.
“You’re in my house at eight in the morning. You get what you get.” Greene laughed as she looked down, noticing she was in a pair of navy boy shorts and a matching tank top. “I sleep in this.”
“Well, I’m going to give you this,” she tossed the throw blanket from the sofa onto Greene’s lap with a laugh and sat down, “and ask again.”
“I’m fine.” Greene knew the question. She stared at the coffee cup, which was full to the brim and had a leaf pattern in the frothy milk on top. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” Joanna asked.
“That?” Greene pointed.
“Oh, I was a barista for a while in college; a pretty good one, actually. I went to a competition one year and took the fourth place. I can do leaves like that and other stuff, too. It’s called free pouring. It sometimes involves wiggling the cup a lot. The best baristas with latte art can make things like tulips, swans, or birds. I saw a scorpion once that was pretty cool, and an angel, too. The angel was surfing. The guy that made it won that year.”
Greene sat mesmerized with her speech. She hadn’t heard about Joanna’s past career as latte artist or barista and wondered at how she even discovered she had that talent and that there were competitions for people who did.
“You said wiggling,” Greene replied, laughed, and leaned back against the sofa.
“It’s an important part of the process.”
“The wiggling?”
“Yes. Do you want me to show you?”
“Wiggling?” Greene’s eyes went wide.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Joanna’s laugh continued. “You have to wiggle the–” She leaned forward again and went to demonstrate by miming holding the stainless steel container she’d just used in Greene’s kitchen to froth and pour the milk.
“No, stop!” Greene laughed. “You can’t keep saying wiggle.” She laughed more and rested her head back on the sofa, with Joanna following and doing the same.
“What’s so funny about that word? Do you have a problem with it like some people have a problem with the word moist?”
“What? No?” Greene laughed again. “Moist is a gross word, though.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “So, why is wiggle so funny?”
Greene met Joanna’s eyes, and they were so blue. They were like endless oceans she wanted to stare at all day, but she averted her glance almost as soon as it had started.
“It’s just that wiggle is a funny word.” She downplayed her very visceral reaction to the word wiggle, which was one that always made her stomach flip, her body tense and then release, because it evoked memories of fingers wiggling inside a woman’s body, bringing her slowly or quickly to orgasm by applying just enough pressure and varying the contact with a wiggle of two or three fingers inside the pliant body of an attractive woman.
“No, you’re lying. What is it really?” Joanna chuckled and turned her head to Greene.
Greene moved to reach for the coffee Joanna had made for her. She took a long sip of the burning liquid as her cheeks matched the heat and turned crimson before she placed it down.
“Lesbian sex,” she stated.
“I’m sorry?” Joanna guffawed in surprise.
“It’s one of my moves,” she continued and tried her best to rid her skin of the redness in mild embarrassment.
“Oh?” Joanna asked and seemed to move away from her slightly.
“I guess it’s not a move. It’s not a big deal. The word makes me think of it sometimes.” Greene picked up the coffee again and took another drink. “I almost hate to drink this because of how good it looks.”
“So, you wiggle?”
Greene lowered the cup and turned to see Joanna staring back at her with a confused expression and a lifted eyebrow. Greene wasn’t sure what to do. Normally, if a woman was curious like this – even if she was straight prior to the conversation, Greene would lean in. Her voice would lower to her sultrier bedroom voice, and she’d explain exactly what she’d do to a woman. She’d usually end up with a nice, long make-out session out of that. In the past couple of years especially, it would end there. She’d go home and take care of herself, if she felt the need. But more often than not, the woman’s reaction was enough to sate her.
“Do you really want to know this?” Greene tried to play it off with a laugh. “And this is really good,” she said about the coffee.
“I guess not.” Joanna stood abruptly. “I just kind of showed up on you. I’m sorry. I’ll–”
“Jo, you don’t have to leave,” she interrupted and wanted to reach for Joanna’s hand.
She decided against it for two reasons. One, they were talking about sex right now. She could feel her body reacting to just the thought of touching another woman again. And two, because she was still dressed only in her underwear. If she moved too much, the blanket would fall, and Joanna might be able to tell just how much she’d been recalling those touches or thinking about future ones.
“No, it’s fine. I have some stuff to work on at home anyway.” Joanna reached for the purse she’d brought with her.
“You’re lying.” Greene laughed lightly. “Just sit down. I’ll go put on real clothes. You want breakfast? I can make us eggs or something. I think I have bacon.”
“I guess I could stand your cooking.” The woman sat back down.
“You love my cooking.” Greene slid over to turn her legs away from Joanna and stood, leaving the blanket behind. “You’re over here like twice a week.”
“Is it my fault you make my eggs just the way I like them or that you know how to marinate steak?” she asked.
Greene walked around the table in front of the sofa and noticed Joanna’s eyes out of the corner of her own now dark green ones. Joanna was watching her walk. Her eyes weren’t on any particular area of Greene’s body, but they were on her. She turned her own head away to make sure Joanna couldn’t see the look of desire in her eyes or the blush that was still present on her cheeks.
“Is it my fault I am an awesome cook?” Greene went into her bedroom.
“You probably win all the ladies over by cooking them dinner here and then playing your violin until they swoon. What’s your go-to dish? Your go-to performance piece?”
She was smiling. Greene couldn’t see her face, but she could tell Joanna was smiling. Greene reached for the pair of shorts on the floor she’d discarded the day before and slid them up her legs. She smiled at Joanna’s comment and returned to the living room.
“I don’t let women into my apartment.” She moved into the kitchen.
“Never?” Joanna asked and turned on the sofa, hanging her legs over its arm so she could watch Greene in the kitchen
.
“Never.”
“You let me in. I have a key. I’m a woman.”
Greene nearly made a comment about having more than noticed that Joanna was all woman, but she resisted and moved her lips into a straight line to prevent the words from escaping on their own.
“You are? I hadn’t noticed,” Greene said sarcastically.
“How did I gain entry into this inner sanctum then, asshole?”
“I don’t bring women I sleep with back here,” she clarified. “Not that I’ve done that a lot recently, because I haven’t. I’ve been in this apartment for almost a decade. I’ve never had a sleepover, if you know what I mean.”
“Why not?”
“I never wanted any of them to see this place.” She bent over to pull out the carton of eggs and a package of half-eaten bacon from the fridge. “Scrambled, with cheese today?”
“Yes. Can you add that stuff to it?”
“I don’t have chives, but I can do a regular onion, or I have onion powder. I have red peppers. I’m out of the yellow ones.”
“What are you making for yourself? Just make me that,” Joanna replied and rested her hand on her head and her elbow on her leg as her legs still hung over the arm of the sofa.
That posture had become her typical posture when Greene cooked due to the size of the kitchen and the fact that the spot was the only one she could sit in and watch and talk at the same time.
“I’m going with an omelet with red and green peppers, cheese, and ham. No bacon for me today.”
“That’s tough, because you know how I love bacon.”
“I do. That’s why I got it out. I’ll do the omelet for you, with no ham, and make the bacon on the side.”
Joanna didn’t say anything, which caused Greene to turn around after pulling out a bowl to mix the ingredients in.
“Sorry, that sounds perfect.” Joanna smiled. “Thank you.”
“Where’d you go just then?” Greene waved the fork in her direction accusingly.
“Nowhere. I’m here.” Joanna smiled wider.
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