Chapter 10 Dumber Than a Moth
dumber than a moth
Jaime closed her laptop and stared sullenly at the last dregs of coffee swirling in her cup. She never went out of her way for people—well, not in her private life, and not counting her mother, who didn’t…count.
She had also never failed at letting go, at retreating when something threatened her longstanding routine.
She didn’t long for nor need the company of others, yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself from carrying those blasted insulated cups to Freedom Park, sitting on that hard bench for almost half an hour, hoping her research had been right and most runners took that particular trail.
God, she was beyond pathetic.
She was about to rise and head back home when the bell chimed and the door to neverending pages flung open, revealing a breathless, flushed Olivia Gray in the doorway, glancing around the room.
Jaime quickly opened her laptop again, focusing on the screen while she grasped her empty coffee cup.
Steps drew closer, then a soft, “Fancy meeting you here,” rang out.
Jaime feigned surprise when she looked up, though her smile was genuine. “Hello, Counselor. What brings you to this part of town on such a lovely Thursday evening?”
Olivia rolled her eyes and dropped into the chair across from Jaime. “A long car drive, stuck in more traffic than I’d bargained for.”
“It’s unwise to underestimate Atlanta traffic.”
“You don’t say.”
A server stopped by and took their orders, a coffee for both, though Jaime really shouldn’t. She’d be up all night if she consumed more caffeine.
Olivia surveyed the room, her gaze drifting from the arrays of bookshelves all around to the back section housing couches and sofa chairs for people to settle in and read, before returning to the more rustic chairs and tables of the café section.
She reached out her hand and touched the white lit candle standing in the middle of their table. “I like the atmosphere.”
Jaime nodded. “There’s a reason I’m a regular.”
“Naturally. It must be a spectacular place if it manages to draw you in.” Mirth danced in Olivia’s eyes.
“Of course. I have impeccable taste, after all.”
Olivia chuckled.
Their drinks arrived, and Jaime traced the rim of her mug. Now that Olivia was here, she didn’t know what to say. Perhaps she should have thought this through better.
“Is the clientele always so…diverse?” Olivia asked, ending the small lull in their conversation.
“Huh?” Jaime glanced around, noting people from all different walks of life. “I guess so.”
“Most places draw a particular crowd, but here, there’s no category that would fit.”
“Why do we need to categorize people?” Jaime asked.
Olivia’s gaze returned to Jaime. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but it’s implied. You expect people to fit into categories, and since they don’t, you are confused.”
Olivia straightened. “I’m not confused. I merely pointed out that it’s unusual since most places cater to a specific audience. It’s easier to set up a business based on the preference of a particular crowd rather than trying to attract…everybody.” She waved around.
“You have a point.”
Olivia raised one eyebrow. “High praise coming from you, Your Honor.”
Jaime shifted in her seat, unsure what to make of Olivia’s use and, more so, the intonation of her title. Neither usually spread heat through her cheeks. She cleared her throat.
“Maybe that’s what’s wrong with a lot of things.”
“That your praise is few and far between?”
Jaime narrowed her eyes. “No. I don’t take myself that seriously. I meant society. We are so busy categorizing everything and everyone, it’s like we don’t allow people to breathe, to just be, because everyone is so preoccupied with fitting into whatever categories.”
“Well, people like to belong, and categories make it easier.”
“Yes, but why are there so many, and for everything? Why can’t I just be…Jaime?”
Olivia held her gaze, an odd expression washing over her face, almost as if she swallowed her first response.
“You are just Jaime, but all the aspects of who Jaime is don’t fit into just one category. And most people… Let’s say we rarely share all the same interests and desires, and so splitting us up into categories makes it easier to interact, or better, to connect with others.”
“What if you have no interest in connecting with others?”
Olivia’s eyes widened, and her fingers fiddled with the spoon. “I don’t know. You might live a lonely life.”
“If the lack of connection is forced upon you, yes, you’d experience loneliness, but if you choose it? How could that lead to a lonely life?”
“You’re human. We all need contact, connections. You can’t just be…an island.” Olivia rolled her eyes.
“There are ways to meet potential…desires without having to form lasting connections, without joining this rat race.”
Olivia leaned forward. “But doesn’t that prove you have…desires, that there’s something you need aside from yourself?”
Jaime tightened her jaw as the urge to flee roared to life, yet she couldn’t help her body from leaning forward, drawn to Olivia like one of those stupid moths dancing around the candle in front of her.
She straightened. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Jaime jumped up. The chair scratched along the floor as she rose and strode toward the bathroom.
She was such an idiot. What had she been thinking? She truly was dumber than the moths. They only had instincts, while she had reason and yet…
She leaned over the bathroom sink after splashing water into her face. Rising, she grabbed a paper towel and dabbed her face. Flinging it into the trash, she turned when the door opened, and Olivia stood in front of her.
God, they needed to stop meeting in bathrooms. Or anywhere, really.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t,” Jaime rushed out.
“OK, good.” Olivia stared at her feet.
Jaime didn’t know what to say or do. What was the etiquette in such situations? Before she could get lost in her meandering thoughts, Olivia raised her head, her gaze blazing.
Jaime took a small step back, forcing herself to keep breathing.
“You’re wrong.”
Jaime’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
Olivia stepped closer, invading Jaime’s personal space, and once Jaime’s back hit the sink behind her, her eyelids flickered shut, and she suppressed a groan as memories of the gala rushed over her.
Olivia cupped Jaime’s cheek. “Look at me.”
Jaime did, and regret washed over her the instant she gazed into Olivia’s green eyes that seemed to pull her in, that shone with an intensity and—
Olivia surged forward, claiming Jaime’s lips in an almost bruising kiss.
Jaime groaned, and clutching Olivia closer, she opened her mouth to welcome her heat and ardor.
Was that what she’d been after? Her mind rebelled against the need pulling her toward Olivia, but her body followed the path Olivia carved with that kiss, leaving her trembling, breathless as her thoughts fell away.
Jaime lost herself in the fervor of their embrace, savoring Olivia’s taste and the feel of strong fingers digging into her back.
A creaking noise outside interrupted them, and they sprang apart, breathing hard.
Jaime licked her lips, her eyes likely as feverish as Olivia’s staring back at her, glassy with the same pent-up passion twisting in her stomach.
An elderly woman entered the bathroom and, after giving them a curious quick glance, disappeared inside one stall.
“Uh, so there’s the Veils of Light art exhibit,” Olivia started, her voice unnaturally high.
“What?”
“Yes, it’s their last day on Saturday. I thought about going there around three.”
“OK.”
“Good.” Olivia nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.” And with that, she left the bathroom.
Jaime frowned, her heart still galloping in her chest and her lips tingled. God, what was she doing?
She was still standing there when the woman left the stall and went to wash her hands.
“I heard the Veils of Light exhibit is supposed to be spectacular. You definitely should go,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Jaime shifted to gaze at the woman, now drying her hands.
“Your…friend. She invited you there, yes? You should go.” She patted Jaime’s upper arm, turned, and left the bathroom.
Jaime tapped her foot, waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green. She glanced at her watch—only five minutes to three.
She had tossed and turned in bed Thursday night, blaming her restlessness on too much caffeine, then spent Friday morning busy in court, blessedly free from any wandering thoughts or chance encounters with a certain counselor.
Yet, back at home, her mind made up for it, and she spent the rest of her evening talking herself out of attending the art exhibit. She’d only looked it up for…reasons. It wasn’t too far from home, and she’d already decided where she would park if she were to go, which she wouldn’t.
Saturday morning had passed much the same, Jaime telling herself she’d stay home, yet she showered and dressed to go out.
She’d go somewhere else. There were plenty of other things to do in the city besides the art exhibit. Of course, she found herself driving to where she’d figured she’d park, and her steps drew her ever closer until she arrived at the intersection leading to the center.
Exasperated, but too far gone to turn around, Jaime stalked ahead and with a huff, showed her cell phone to the lady at the entrance to scan her bar code.
She wandered through the halls without paying attention to the lights and shadows playing around her, seeking Olivia instead.
Jaime’s steps slowed when she saw her standing in front of an art piece displaying superimposed images of people and their shadows.
The figures seemed to blur and blend into one another, the shadows stretching and distorting into abstract shapes, creating a sense of both connection and distance between them.
The interplay of light against the shifting forms gave the piece an almost ethereal, dreamlike quality, as if the figures could slip away at any moment.
“Fancy meeting you here, Counselor,” Jaime whispered close to Olivia’s ear, suppressing a smile when Olivia started and spun around to face her.
“Jaime.” Olivia smiled. “Hi.” She sounded almost breathless. “What do you think of the exhibit?”
Jaime’s brows furrowed. She refused to admit she’d paid no attention to the art. “Impressive.”
“Isn’t it? This piece especially. The way the shadows stretch, it’s like they move.”
“Want to walk around?”
Olivia nodded, and they meandered through the hall, pausing at various pieces and discussing them further.
Jaime found herself oddly tongue-tied, both enthralled by Olivia’s smart and insightful commentary and on the lookout for an escape.
“Am I boring you?” Olivia asked. “I didn’t mean to prattle on, but I just…”
“Really love art?”
“Yeah.”
Olivia seemed almost bashful, and Jaime had to avert her gaze. She did not find her adorable.
“You don’t?”
“Oh, I do. Though I prefer modern art, like Picasso’s Owl.” Olivia’s openness and her easy access to her emotions, her passions, to sharing them, mesmerized Jaime.
Olivia held her gaze. “Yes, I can see you’d like line art.”
Jaime chuckled. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“It’s an observation, Your Honor.” Olivia smiled and slightly bumped into Jaime before striding ahead toward the next art piece.
Jaime expelled a harsh exhale before striding after her. Olivia really needed to stop calling her that.
A little later, Jaime stood in silence, watching Olivia study yet another piece, her mind still half-focused on their previous conversation.
“You know,” Olivia started, turning slightly toward Jaime, rubbing the hem of her dress, “there’s this bookstore I like to frequent.
It’s a bit smaller, but they have a cozy little reading nook with bean bag chairs.
” She tilted her head. “I might stop by next Saturday. I like to get there around four.”
Jaime’s breath hitched, but she kept her expression neutral. “Sounds like a nice place.”
“It is. Although someone with impeccable taste might want to inspect it to form a final judgment. Know anyone like that?”
Jaime’s lips twitched. “What’s the name of this wondrous place?”
“Cassiopeia and the Gray Men.”
This time, Jaime couldn’t suppress her laughter, and she released a rough chuckle.
Olivia grinned, seeming way too pleased with herself.