Chapter 21 #2
My phone buzzed with another notification, and I silenced it without looking.
I’d deal with the internet’s opinions about my love life later.
Right now, I had a festival to finish planning – and a growing certainty that whatever was happening between Teddy and me deserved more attention than I’d been giving it. But that was future Chloe’s problem.
“You can delete the story,” Jen said as I turned to go, “but I’m keeping the painting.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to give it up. It’s beautiful.”
And it was. Even unfinished, it captured something I hadn’t realised was visible to outside observers – the careful attention Teddy paid to everything she did. Even if the recipient of the attention in that moment had been me more than the bees.
* * *
By that evening, I was desperate for the normality of film night at Jack’s. I was looking forward to losing myself in someone else’s story for a few hours.
I found Jack and Phil in their typical pre-film debate, though this one seemed more heated than usual.
“Alien is clearly superior,” I announced as I walked into the living room, immediately taking a side without even knowing the full argument.
“See?” Phil said triumphantly. “Chloe gets it.”
“I haven’t even heard your positions yet.” I laughed, settling onto the sofa between them. “But Alien is a masterpiece of practical effects and mounting tension, so…”
“That’s exactly what I said!” Phil threw his hands up. “Whereas Jack thinks we should watch Jurassic Park because, and I quote, ‘dinosaurs are cooler than aliens.’”
“Jurassic Park spends like twenty minutes having characters explain DNA extraction,” I countered, getting into the swing of the argument.
Jack looked over at Morgan, who was sat opposite them in a chair, clearly looking for support.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I’m just here for the show.” She pointed at the row of us, making it clear that we were the show.
Jack looked between Phil and me, clearly outnumbered. “Fine. But I’m picking next time.”
“Deal,” I said, settling back as Phil queued up Alien, readying myself for the glory of Sigourney Weaver.
As the film went on, though, Jack nudged me with his elbow. “Work okay today? You seem a bit on edge.”
I glanced at him, then at Phil, who was also watching me more closely than usual. “I’m fine. Just passionate about good filmmaking.”
“Uh huh.” Phil paused the film less than ten seconds in. “That’s not your ‘passionate about film’ energy. That’s your ‘I need to argue with someone about something because I can’t have the argument I want to have’ energy.”
“Very specific energy type,” Jack agreed. “We’ve seen it before.”
I sighed, slumping deeper into the sofa. “It’s nothing. Just work stuff. And internet stuff. It’s complicated.”
“Is this about the beekeeping photo that’s been making rounds online?” Phil asked excitedly. “Because Amy showed me, and—”
“Everyone’s seen it, haven’t they?” I covered my face with an errant cushion. “This is mortifying.”
“It’s not mortifying,” Jack said firmly. “It’s actually really beautiful. Artistic. Romantic, even.”
“That’s the problem,” I said, hitting him with the pillow. “It’s too romantic-looking. People are reading way too much into it.”
“Are they, though?” Phil’s voice was carefully neutral. “Reading too much into it, I mean.”
All three of them were watching me with the patient expressions of friends who already knew the answer but were waiting for me to figure it out myself.
“Maybe not,” I admitted.
“And how do you feel about that?” Jack asked carefully, as if negotiating with a trigger-happy bank robber. “Excited? Confused? Scared? Horny?”
“How about all the above?” I sat up properly. “Can we please just watch the movie? I promise I’ll have an existential crisis about my feelings after the alien bursts out of Kane’s chest.”
They exchanged a look, clearly deciding to let it drop. But as the film resumed, Phil reached down to his side.
“I have something that might cheer you up,” he said, producing a tote bag. I could already see green fabric poking out the top, and by the time he held it out for me, I was already tapping my feet and holding my hands out.
Phil had outdone himself with my outfit for this year’s fantasy festival.
After swearing off making costumes for all of us – we went to too many events for him to keep up, and it had become a full-time job – he’d made an exception, and even broken his no-corsets rule, when I’d described what I wanted and assured him I’d wear it to every festival I worked for Gwenynen.
We were all going in monochrome outfits, and I’d been assigned green – or, rather, as the group redhead, I’d demanded it – so I wanted a corset top in the exact green of the Gwenynen logo, with tiny, embroidered bees scattered across the fabric.
I’d even found a linen skirt that he could dye to match.
It was perfect. Professional enough to represent the farm well – I wasn’t about to have my tits all the way out at work – but beautiful enough to make me feel confident and powerful.
The tiny black and gold bees were so detailed, and I loved it.
I leaned over to squeeze Phil in a hug, thanking him profusely.
Morgan showed me some of the things she’d sourced for her all-pink look on her phone, and I scrolled through the images, feeling more and more excited about the weekend.
I couldn’t wait to see all our costumes together.
But, if I was being honest with myself, what I really couldn’t wait for was to see Teddy’s reaction when she saw me in the top.
The green would bring out my eyes, the cut would hopefully have the girls sitting right where I wanted them, and the tiny, embroidered bees were a detail only someone who really looked would notice.
Someone like Teddy.
On screen, the chestburster was finally making its grand entrance in spectacularly gruesome fashion, but I was barely paying attention.
Instead, I was imagining the festival, just a fortnight away – the music and the costumes and the energy of the festival, yes, but mostly the moment when Teddy would see me, and her eyes would widen just slightly, like they had in the moment that photo had been taken.
And maybe it was time to stop pretending I didn’t want her to look at me that way.