“But what about the other stuff?”
“The physical stuff, or the concerns about your father?”
“Both. I live at home, Hillary. I live in the guest house, but I live on his property. I don’t know if you could come here, and that’s not fair to you. I also don’t know when I’ll be comfortable taking those physical steps either, as much as I want them.”
“You want them?” Hillary’s tone led Amara to believe she was definitely in a good mood.
Amara thought about brushing off the comment, but something told her that she could be honest with Hillary. She could tell her everything and Hillary wouldn’t judge her or fault her.
“Of course, I do. I’ve been staring at you for a year, Hillary. There’s a reason for that.”
“What’s the reason exactly?”
“You’re going to make me say it?” She chuckled and leaned back against the pillows.
“Yes.”
“Because you’re hot, and I want you.”
That may have been the most honest sentence she’d ever uttered in her life. Her cheeks got hot. She was certain they were bright red, but she didn’t care. She’d just told the woman she’d been fantasizing about forever that she wanted her. It felt good.
“You want me?”
“Since I first saw you.”
“But, back then, I was–”
“Hot,” Amara finished for her. “I know you started working out a while ago, and that you think this attention you’ve been getting recently is because of that. Maybe it is; I don’t know. But I do know that I’ve always found you attractive. Your hair was shorter then, and you used to slide it behind your ears constantly. I thought it was so cute. You had glasses that you sometimes wore when you would work on your laptop, and those were cute, too. What happened to those?”
“Contacts.”
“Why? They were adorable. You’d slide them up your nose every so often when you were in the middle of something important or just in deep concentration. Your eyes would always squint, and your nose would scrunch.”
“And you liked that?” Hillary laughed.
“I kept coming back to the same coffee shop, didn’t I? The coffee’s not that special.”
“For someone that’s never had a girlfriend, you sure are good at this part.”
“What part?”
“Flattery.”
“It’s true. I’m not trying to flatter you, Hillary.”
“I know you’re not. That’s not who you are.”
“It’s not.” Amara wondered how they’d gone down this path, when she’d only intended to ask how long Hillary would be willing to wait for her if it took her some time to be ready. “When can I see you?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“You’ve got to stop that.” Amara chuckled. “You say that, and I get my hopes up.”
“It’s not all that late. I’d offer to come to you, but I don’t think that’s an option.”
“You want me to come to your place?”
“You don’t have to. I know it’s not exactly a quick trip.”
“It shouldn’t be that bad this time of the night on a Sunday. I could be there in an hour. I need to change.”
“Why? What are you wearing now?” Hillary’s tone had shifted, and Amara’s blush returned.
“Just flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt.”
“Wear that.”
“I’m not wearing pajamas to your apartment, Hillary.”
“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?”
“Nine.”
“In the city?”
“Yes.”
“Stay the night at my place.”
“What?”
“We don’t have to do anything. I don’t have a Monday morning class. I can make you breakfast.” She seemed to pause to wait for Amara’s response. “It’s okay. Never mind. It’s stupid. I just got excited. We can plan something for this week if you’re free.”
“I want to come over.” Amara leaned up in bed and moved her laptop to the side. “I just…”
“Hey, it’s okay. I just had this date with someone else, where all I did was talk about you. When I got home, I couldn’t wait to talk to you.”
“Yeah?” Amara smiled at that thought.
“Is it too lame to say that I missed you?” Hillary asked.
“No, it’s not.” She toyed with the frayed hem of her worn pajama pants. “If I come over, we’ll sleep in the same bed?”
“You don’t have to come over. But if you do, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“In your own home? No way. And I wasn’t asking because I was uncomfortable. I was asking because I just wanted to make sure,” she replied honestly. “I’ve never slept in the same bed with someone I was dating.”
“And you want to do that with me?”
“Yes,” Amara whispered.
“Then, come over.”
CHAPTER 16
“I like these.” Hillary pointed at Amara’s green and blue pajama pants as Amara entered with an overnight bag.
“Stop it.” Amara chuckled at her.
“I’m serious.” Hillary closed the door behind her and turned to take Amara’s bag from her shoulder. “I’ll put this in the bedroom. You can put your jacket anywhere.”
Hillary moved into the bedroom, where she placed Amara’s bag on the floor and took a deep breath before walking back into the living room she’d hastily straightened up moments ago. Amara was hanging her jacket up inside the closet. She then closed the door and turned to Hillary in expectation.
“So, what do we do now?”
Hillary moved toward her, took the woman’s hips, and wrapped her arms around Amara’s waist. She pulled Amara into her body and hugged her.
“This,” she said after a moment and continued the embrace.
“This is nice,” Amara whispered as she pressed her face into Hillary’s neck. “This feels good.”
Hillary ran her hands up and down Amara’s back and then separated their bodies.
“It is good. Do you want something to drink?”
“Water?”
“Sure.” Hillary smiled at her. “In here or in there?” she asked, motioning first to the living room and then to the bedroom.
“In there?” Amara asked more than answered.
“Tell me what you want.” Hillary took her hand and stared down at it. “Just say it.”
“No one’s ever really asked me that before.”
“I am.” Hillary looked up at her and placed her free hand on Amara’s cheek; Amara leaned into the touch. “I’m asking.”
“I want to fall asleep next to you.”
“Then, I’ll get your water, and we’ll go into the bedroom. I can put a movie on in the background, and we can talk until we fall asleep.”
“Who holds whom?” Amara asked.
Hillary did her best not to laugh at that adorable question and replied, “Tonight, or in general?”
“Sorry, that’s a stupid question.”
“That is not a stupid question.” Hillary rubbed her thumb over Amara’s cheek. “How about we just see how it goes?”
“Okay.” The woman nodded and gave a shy smile.
Hillary walked her first into the bedroom before returning to the kitchen. She thought Amara might need a moment to herself, and decided to make them some popcorn. She returned to the bedroom with popcorn and two bottles of water in hand to find Amara sitting on her bed with her legs outstretched, back straight, and hands pressed between her legs. Hillary placed the bottle of water on Amara’s side, the popcorn on the bed in between them, and dropped her own water on her bedside table before she peeled back the blanket and slid under it. Amara took the hint. She stood, pulled her side back a little, and slid under the blanket as well. She was careful not to move the popcorn bowl. Hillary picked it up and held it out for her.
“Want some?”
“Sure.” Amara took the bowl from her.
Hillary grabbed h
er remote and turned on the television. She flipped channels until they decided on a movie. She then dug her hand into the popcorn bowl Amara was still holding and took a handful. They watched in silence for a minute, and Hillary recognized that Amara was still incredibly tense and, likely, nervous. She glanced over at her before deciding to turn the movie off, and laid fully on the mattress, turning on her side to face Amara.
“My mom was an alcoholic,” she stated.
“What?” Amara moved the popcorn bowl to the table and moved to mirror Hillary’s posture.
“She is an alcoholic, I guess. You always are once you are, you know?” She paused as Amara settled more into her position and appeared to get a little more comfortable. “She started drinking when I was around ten. And, at first, it wasn’t a big deal. She missed a few of my tennis matches when I was fourteen and showed up to a couple of academic competitions claiming she was tired or sick. I didn’t know then that she wasn’t.” She paused and used the beauty of Amara’s caring expression to give her strength. “She started drinking more when I was about sixteen, and she got one DUI and then another. Her license was taken away, but she’d borrow my car and drive anyway. When I was seventeen, I was old enough to understand how bad it was. When I caught her taking my car because my dad had hidden her keys, I was worried she’d hurt herself or someone else. I called my dad, but he was at work and didn’t answer. So, I did the only other thing I could think of.”
“You called the police?” Amara guessed.
“She was arrested and spent two years in jail,” Hillary explained. “I went to court to try to show my support for her getting better, and she smacked me, said a lot of hurtful things, and got taken away.” She exhaled and continued, “I didn’t visit her in jail, but she’d write me letters telling me she was sober and that she was in the program.”
“Was she lying?”
“No, she was. She did get better. She still goes to meetings every week; sometimes more than one. She and my dad have repaired their marriage. And she and I aren’t exactly close, but we’ve made amends.”
“That’s why you joined Al-Anon?”
Amara moved her hand to Hillary’s cheek this time. Hillary was surprised, because this was the first contact Amara had initiated. She hesitated before continuing just so she could enjoy the moment.
“The first time.”
“What do you mean?”
Hillary moved just a little bit closer, needing Amara’s presence to drive her on in her story.
“My ex-girlfriend, Caroline, had a problem, too. We were together for three years. We got engaged, even. It was like the engagement had caused something to snap in both of us, and we started fighting. I wanted a small ceremony; Caroline wanted a huge one. That wasn’t a big deal, but then she got a promotion at work. It required her to move to Seattle. I didn’t want to move. We both wanted to stay in San Francisco and have a family.” Hillary paused again. “Caroline turned down that promotion, but the drinking started then. She had a hard time when she’d hear about the guy that took that job and all his success. At first, it was like with my mom: she’d have a glass or two of wine at night. And that turned into the whole bottle. She’d go out and have three or four cocktails, and then come home and have a bottle. It just got worse from there. We started fighting more. She said some hurtful things, just like my mom back then. I was ugly, and fat, and she could do better. That was the gist of it, anyway.”
“What? She’s crazy,” Amara exclaimed and moved closer to her.
“She was offered an even bigger promotion, because her drinking had somehow only managed to impact her personal life; but it required her to move to London. She’d already told me she wanted it and didn’t want a family with me anymore; she didn’t want to be in San Francisco anymore, and a myriad of other things that were somehow all my fault because I’d held her back. She took the job, moved to London, and – I don’t know about her drinking – but she seems to have moved on okay.”
“I’m so sorry.” Amara rubbed Hillary’s cheek.
Hillary reached around Amara’s waist and placed her hand on Amara’s back, holding it still against the woman’s shirt.
“It’s okay. It happened. It wasn’t fun, but – in a way, I’m glad I went through it. Caroline obviously wanted something more than what I could give her. It took me a while, but I finally started to believe that I deserved better.”
“Of course, you do.” Amara slid ever so slightly closer so that they were only inches apart. “You don’t deserve any of that.”
“I started going back to meetings every week after she and I broke up. Then, it was once a month. And later – once every so often, when I feel discouraged at the gym and hear her voice in my head. Recently, I met a woman there that needed some support. Her name is Mary, by the way.”
“The virgin?” Amara smiled.
“I have no idea.” Hillary laughed and moved her hand under Amara’s shirt to still at the small of her back. “Is this okay?” She lightly rubbed the warm, soft skin.
“Yes.” Amara closed her eyes for a moment.
“Mary asked me to go to the meeting that night I saw you there.”
“Have you gone since?”
“Just once, because I wanted to see you there again.” She smiled at Amara.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“But you see me every week at the café.”
“I know.” She pressed her forehead to Amara’s. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I can’t either.” Amara slid closer to her until their breasts were pressed together; she then let out a soft gasp. “Thank you for telling me all that.”
“Well, you told me yours.” Hillary smirked at the woman. “Thank you for coming over tonight.”
Amara didn’t say anything for a moment, but she wrapped her arm around Hillary’s waist, and pressed her hand to Hillary’s back in the same way Hillary had done. She began making slow circles against Hillary’s skin, which instantly lit the woman on fire. Hillary knew it had been a long time since she’d been touched by a woman, but that wasn’t the only reason it felt so good to have Amara touching her.
“I’ve never been this close to someone,” Amara finally admitted.
Hillary wasn’t sure if she meant physically or emotionally. Maybe she meant both. She was happy to hear it either way, and she slid her arm further under Amara’s shirt. She wouldn’t take it any further than that, in case Amara needed more time, but it felt so good to finally be touching this woman she’d been staring at for so long.
“You feel really good. I like having you here,” Hillary replied.
“I like being here,” Amara said.
“I really want to kiss you right now.” Hillary decided to be honest. “But I said we’d just talk and sleep; I want to keep my word.”
Amara’s eyes had been closed, but she opened them wide at that comment. Hillary pulled back, fearing she’d gone too far. Her hand stilled on Amara’s back. Her eyes, she knew, showed fear.
“If I said it was okay, would you?” Amara asked after a moment.
Her hand, placed on Hillary’s back, slid higher under Hillary’s shirt. Hillary remained still, staring into Amara’s eyes to check for some sign of either seriousness or cruel teasing. At first, she couldn’t tell for sure. But, after a moment, Amara’s nervous eyes turned darker, and she smiled with her eyes more than with her lips.
“I thought you wanted to take things slow.”
“I’m trying to trust myself and my feelings for the first time ever,” Amara replied. “I want to kiss you; I can feel it everywhere, how much. I want to trust that.”
Hillary decided to trust Amara’s feelings, too. She removed her own hand from under Amara’s shirt to bring it to Amara’s cheek, closed her eyes, leaned in, and kissed Amara’s forehead. She waited for a comment or a reaction from Amara, but there was none. Hillary kissed her nose next. Amara remained unmoving. Her breath quickened just enough to make Hillary pau
se, though. She had never been another woman’s first kiss. So, while this was a first for Amara, it was also one for her. Hillary lowered her lips and allowed them to hover there for a moment. If Amara had doubts or wanted to take back what she’d said, Hillary would give her that time. The last thing she wanted was to push Amara too fast and lose her because of it.
“Last chance,” she whispered against Amara’s lips.
CHAPTER 17
Amara wanted to taste Hillary’s lips. She wanted to feel Hillary’s tongue glide against her own. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life. She didn’t want to pull away. She didn’t want Hillary to move back and say that it was okay, that they could take it slow.
She made the move to connect their lips. Hillary didn’t respond right away, and Amara worried she was doing something wrong. But then Hillary’s lips moved against her own, and Amara couldn’t believe what was happening: she was kissing a woman; she was kissing Hillary.
Hillary’s hand began to move down to her neck; her body slid even closer to Amara as the slow kiss continued at its steady pace. Hillary’s lips were so soft, Amara felt no stubble against her own skin; and she wanted more. She gave into how good it felt to be kissed like this. Her lips parted slightly. Hillary’s lips captured one lip and then the other. The woman somehow managed to move even closer, despite the fact that Amara wasn’t sure how there could be any space left between them. Amara found herself rolling ever so slowly onto her back, bringing Hillary with her. That caused Hillary to stop the kiss and stare down at her.
“Should we stop?” Hillary asked as she slid one hand to Amara’s stomach over her shirt, stilling it there, while her head rested on her other elbow.
Amara’s heart was racing so hard, she worried it would give out at any moment. Surely, the human heart wasn’t designed to handle this many rapid beats in such a short period of time. Her breathing wasn’t much better. But as Hillary stared down at her, with her gorgeous brown eyes and her brunette hair fanning around her face, Amara knew she hadn’t made the wrong decision. She lifted her head and met Hillary’s lips with her own, placing her hand on the back of Hillary’s neck and pulling the woman down.
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