19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
“This,” announced Prisha, lifting her slice up in the open air, “is literally the best pizza on the planet.”
Hope met Alison’s eyes across the picnic table and immediately pretended to pick a hair out of her teeth. To her intense delight, Alison dissolved into a helpless giggle. She adored this version of Alison, relaxed under a picnic umbrella, a trace of goofiness in her laugh.
“It’s amazing pizza,” Ali agreed. “Very hirsute.”
Hope nearly choked on her slice, but Alison had delivered the line so immaculately, no one seemed to notice her odd word choice. Harry gave them both an indulgent glance - nothing got past him - but everyone else chimed in with their own contented compliments to the chefs .
“You look relaxed,” Harry said to the birthday girl. “Did you enjoy your spa day?”
“It was gorgeous,” Prisha said with a dreamy smile. “Total indulgence.”
“I got us a couple’s package,” Camille giggled from beside her. “Joint massage, private spa. Very sexy.”
Prisha’s smile dimmed. Hope’s stomach dropped.
“It sounds lovely,” Hope said to Prisha. Prisha seemed unsettled and Alison’s observation rang in Hope’s ears. “It’s a beautiful, caring gift,” she said evenly.
“It was.” Prisha’s throat worked as she swallowed.
“No one I’d rather relax with.” Camille gave her a gentle elbow to the ribs and Prisha managed a smile.
Alison met Hope’s eyes again, her gaze full of understanding. Hope knew, before Alison even opened her mouth, that she was about to try to distract Prisha.
“Do you celebrate with your family, as well?” she asked. “Rishima totally gives me mama bear vibes like she would celebrate the hell out of you.”
Alison was having therapy with Prisha’s mum and Hope was here for it. If anyone could help Alison start to trust herself again, it was Rishima; Prisha’s mum would take no bullshit and Hope was pretty sure that was exactly what Alison Hartmann needed.
Prisha started talking but Hope was only really aware that her friend’s tone was steady and warm as she gently poked fun at her mother, because her own thoughts were solidly elsewhere. There were so many undercurrents at this table right now - god, even at this one small corner of this table - and Hope felt dizzy seeing them all. Prisha, raw and vulnerable - oh god, was Alison right? - Camille, unconsciously teasing. And precisely when had Hope and Alison gotten so close they could have whole conversations with their eyes?
It was bewildering because she and Alison were close. They’d grown closer and closer as the months went on. Hope had fucked three other people that winter, just trying to manage how damn close they’d gotten, each time sure that momentarily draping herself with another body would be enough to break the spell. She didn’t want to distance herself from Ali, had no intention of pumping the brakes on their deepening friendship, but how the hell had they gotten this platonically close and she still couldn’t turn off her intense want for her?
It was all going to be fine, Hope was sure of that. Adamant, in fact. There was nothing wrong, per se, about desiring your friend. Apparently Prisha - maybe - desired Camille and they were fine, weren’t they? They were. Obviously they were. There was no harm in any of it.
Especially in those little flashes of moments she was sure the desire between her and Alison was still mutual. She remembered, like it was yesterday, Alison’s eyes on her the night they’d bumped into each other at the fundraiser in Melbourne, months ago now, drinking Hope in like she was ravenous. The way that red dress slipped and slid across her curves, like one quick tug and Hope would have her bare. The way Alison’s body reacted to her blatant stare, goosebumps erupting along her silky skin, hard nipples at full attention, all but begging for her mouth… Poor Miles, he’d had no idea there was only one person in her mind that night when her orgasm hit.
Where was she? Hope blinked in the sunlight and her gaze met Alison’s all over again. Oh shit. She hoped that she and Alison weren’t as good at having conversations with their eyes as she’d thought they were because right now, Hope’s would be saying all kinds of things best left unsaid. She jerked her gaze away. She didn’t want Alison to read her thoughts about this. She didn’t want to think about Prisha and Camille. She stared at her plate. Pizza. Pizza… Harry’s kitchen party. Gay sex. Gay sex with Alison. No. Bad Hope. Fuck!
“Did you just fat shame Herodotus?” came Cara’s voice from over her left shoulder in their small hospital room the following week. Hope straightened up .
“I did not, ” she refuted as she gently closed the cage door on the dozing middle-aged feline. “I just suggested that he refrain from eating any more hair ties if he wanted to live a long life.”
“It’s good advice for anyone really,” Cara said thoughtfully. “You’re incredibly wise. And extremely pretty.”
“What are you trying to get me to do?” Hope put her hands on her hips.
“You’re not seeing anyone, right?” asked her vet nurse.
“Correct.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed.”
“Not even that gorgeous posh bird that comes in to bring you lunch and ogle you in your scrubs all the time?”
“Once. Alison brought me lunch once. And I look extremely good in scrubs.”
“So are you dating her? ”
“I am not.”
“Because if you are, my plan won’t work.”
“ What plan?”
“I have this friend-”
“No. No more set-ups!”
“Hear me out! She’s fucking gorgeous. She’s in town, literally for a week, like just enough to have some fun-”
“She’s in town for a week? Why don’t you want to hang out with her?”
“I do! It’s just… my new boyfriend is-”
“You want me to bone your friend so you can bone your boyfriend?”
“Basically, yes. Let me show you her photo.”
Before Hope could stop her, Cara had pulled out her phone and was showing her pictures.
“Oh,” Hope said before she could help herself.
“I told you!”
“She’s super gorgeous.” She was. Photo after photo of one superbly attractive woman. Here for a few nights. Perfect for blowing off steam. No strings. Just fun. Hope would, definitely.
And yet. The idea felt about as attractive as flossing her teeth: not horrible, just a task she should do. What was wrong with her? Hope liked sex and she very much liked beautiful women. And honestly, her libido was becoming straight up problematic, rearing its head at the most inconvenient of times. And yet for god knows what reason, for the life of her, Hope didn’t want to fuck the pretty stranger.
It felt empty, all of a sudden. Just like it had felt kind of empty having sex with Miles. Enjoyable, yes, but on more or less the same level as going for a jog somewhere scenic. Some physical exertion, some endorphins, kind of a boost that popped a little pep in her step. Nothing earth-shattering.
Did she need sex to be earth-shattering? Absolutely not. What was nagging at her, she slowly realised, as she stared at the soft pout on the phone screen before her, was that she wanted something more. Sex with someone who she wanted in more ways than just physical. Sex with someone who adored her. Sex with someone like…
“Alison!” Cara said .
“What?” Hope spluttered.
“Hi,” came the voice of the exact woman she’d just been thinking far too sexy thoughts about. Ali hovered in the doorway, looking like a damn treat and holding a brown paper bag. “I know you get busy when you’re operating, so I thought I’d bring you by some lunch?”
“Hey,” Hope couldn’t stop her smile. “Aren’t you just ridiculously fucking sweet?”
“Ugh!” Cara dropped her phone into her scrub pocket. “Honestly, I give up.”