Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“To be honest, I don’t really know,” Lola said, her sneakers snapping some twigs underfoot.
“But I guess it was something I always struggled with in my straight relationships. I never liked ‘being the girl.’ I hated feeling like that meant I could and couldn’t do certain things.
Even just the way a waiter would offer tasting wine to a male date or assume that he’s going to pay, when I might know more about wine or make more money. It didn’t make sense to me.”
“I think that’s it exactly,” Annie said. “When I’m dating someone, it’s more about our preferences and strengths, as far as who does what. Like, with Harriet, my ex, she knew about wine, so she did the taste. I’m more a yup, tastes like wine, put it in my mouth girl.”
“I like the idea that, in a queer relationship, you get to reinvent so many things,” Lola said a touch wistfully, pausing to lift a low branch for Annie to duck under, the air thick with the scent of wildflowers and a chorus of cicadas.
“You get to write your own script, to use a very on-brand metaphor.”
Annie’s laugh was a little breathless. It was thrilling to be talking in this way, so openly and honestly about dating and preferences.
It didn’t feel like there were any walls between her and Lola anymore; rather, it felt like they were circling each other, wondering who was going to make the first move.
Annie decided to be bold. “So, theoretically, if you were dating a woman,” she said, “who’d take out the trash, you or her?”
Lola glanced over, an excited smile flashing onto her face. “I do the trash, you do the recycling? I mean, she takes out the recycling,” Lola amended quickly, her cheeks flushing pink. “And, uh, I take out the trash.”
A trickle of sweat slipped down Annie’s back. “What about vacations—are you the here’s-a-link-to-our-full-itinerary-I-have-the-passports-snacks-and-compression-socks or the one who jumps in the car asking where we’re going?”
Lola laughed. “Spreadsheet fiend, guilty as charged. You?”
“Spontaneous girlie slash terrible planner, equally guilty,” Annie admitted. “But fun in the moment! And I can roll with anything.”
“I’m sure,” Lola said. “Ooh, I have one: dishwasher. Do you stack it like a Swedish scientist or just chuck everything in and hope for the best?”
Annie considered this. “Probably a pinch more chuck-it-in reckless, but I’m not a monster. You?”
“A pinch more Swedish scientist,” Lola said, “but also not a monster.”
“Then hey, this just might work,” Annie joked.
Lola glanced over, her smile turning inquisitive. “Yeah,” she said, “it might.”
Annie’s heart thumped so loudly it drowned out the cicadas.
She couldn’t parse the exact tenor of Lola’s last line; if Annie had taken it too far by suggesting, albeit accidentally, that they date.
On their first date. If this was a date.
Lola was still going back to her big, bold New York life at the end of all this.
The point was just to enjoy the moment, not start planning an impossible future.
Annie pointed to the clearing coming up ahead. “We’re almost there.”
The stream next to them fed into a sunny water hole, fringed by lush trees and plants, the underbrush dense with ferns and wildflowers.
The water sparkled like liquid glass. A lone dragonfly skimmed the surface, breaking the stillness.
It was the sort of idyllic Upstate swimming hole that’d typically be teeming, but today, luxuriously, they had it all to themselves.
They climbed up onto a flat, sun-dappled rock that jutted out over the water. Annie spread out two colorful, mismatched towels. “Eat or swim first?” she asked.
Lola was already unbuttoning her cutoffs. “Swim.”
Annie watched, mesmerized, as Lola shucked off her tank top and cutoffs, revealing a skimpy white bikini. Lola’s body was insane—powerful, lean.
“You look like…a sports car,” were the words that fell out of Annie’s mouth.
Lola laughed, moving with grace to the lip of the rock. “Oh yeah?” She raised a cheeky brow. “Wanna go for a ride?”
Before Annie could muster a response, Lola dived in, arrowing elegantly into the water. She resurfaced, her platinum blond hair slicked to her skull. “C’mon.” She gestured with a grin, water droplets arcing off her hand like scattered jewels. “Come in!”
Annie yanked off her clothes so quickly, she got tangled in her T-shirt.
Her own two-piece was less cover-of-Sports-Illustrated—she didn’t think they typically featured funky graphic prints and full butt coverage—but she felt cute enough, and the halter neck top made her boobs look good. Holding her nose, Annie jumped.
The water was a delicious cold shock. Annie let herself sink for a few weightless moments before kicking up to the surface, emerging into the warm air.
The sun was right in her eyes, blinding her.
When Annie refocused, Lola was treading water, six feet away.
A bobbing, beautiful blond head. “Amazing, right?” Lola called.
Annie nodded, every cell in her body shining bright. “Perfect.”
The only other sound was birds twittering in the treetops. They splashed around, ducking and diving. Beneath the surface, Annie watched Lola’s body move with the fluidity of a sea creature, poetic and otherworldly.
They ended up on their backs, floating on the surface, limbs starfished, eyes half closed.
But rather than feel relaxed, Annie’s entire body was pulsing, invisible forces urging her toward Lola.
She wanted to roll on top of her, pressing their mouths together as they sunk to the murky bottom, because what was death but another great adventure?
Annie climbed out first, drying off then setting out the epic picnic lunch she’d spent all morning preparing: a tomato and caramelized onion galette; whipped feta dip with crunchy homemade crackers; green goddess salad; quick pickled cucumbers; fresh lemon bars from The Moosewood Cookbook; two bottles of beer, still cold.
She picked her way over to the sun-warmed rocks to their towels, easing down to lie on her belly. Moments later, Lola was kneeling down beside her, droplets of water falling onto Annie’s back. “Cold!” Annie squealed, giggling, as Lola flicked a few extra drops.
Lola lay on her side next to Annie on the other towel, head propped up to face her. It felt like being in bed together, side by side, close enough to touch. Their afternoon stretched out before them, endless in time and in possibilities.
For the first time since Lola Wilson had returned to Rhodes, Annie let herself stare, falling without a safety net into Lola’s dark gold eyes.
She’d never thought much about eyes being the window to one’s soul, but now, the old phrase took on new meaning.
Annie imagined climbing through that window, left open just for her, to explore at leisure the inner workings of Lola’s being. An exploration she would never tire of.
A smile flickered dreamily over Lola’s mouth. Her gaze moved down Annie’s body, pausing in surprise on her side. “You have a tattoo.”
Four delicate words inked in old-fashioned cursive. Always with you, darling.
“Gran’s handwriting,” Annie said. “From my last birthday card.”
Lola traced the words with her fingertip.
The touch made Annie shiver in pleasure, the sensation gushing hot inside her.
“It’s beautiful,” Lola said. Her fingers slid slowly up, tracing up Annie’s side, skating over her décolletage, to land on the side of her face, one thumb touching Annie’s cheek.
Lola’s words were soft but certain, her gaze awed. “You’re beautiful, Annie.”
All thoughts of the picnic, the play, the rest of the world—everything vanished. There was only this: Lola Wilson’s fingers cupping her face, sweet words on her breath, her body agonizingly too far away.
Annie tipped her chin up, filled with a sudden urgency. It had all been leading to this. “If you don’t kiss me right now, I think I might die.”
A wondrous smile bloomed on Lola’s face. She inched closer until their bodies were touching, damp, warm flesh pressing together.
Annie slid her hand into Lola’s wet hair, pulling her close.
Their breath intermingled, mouths a millimeter apart.
Then Lola’s lips touched Annie’s own, soft and insistent, and it felt like coming home to a place Annie had never been before.
A sun-spangled sensation of strange and familiar, of entirely new and something beloved rediscovered.
Lola was half on top of Annie, miles of skin rubbing and sliding.
Lola’s mouth moved with certainty against Annie’s, kissing her deeply, their tongues brushing.
Annie let out a soft, needy moan. Lola responded with authority, one hand braced by Annie’s head, the other tugging her chin down for an even deeper kiss that made Annie feel like a spotlight switching to full power.
It was the giddy high of stepping onstage, the gratifying sound of an audience laughing, the brief and wonderful pleasure of accepting applause.
“Oh, Lollie.” The gasp slipped out of its own accord.
Lola lifted her head, panting, her hazel eyes a brilliant gold. “God, I love it when you call me that.”
“You do?” Annie was desperate both for their mouths to be back on each other and for every word Lola wanted to dole out.
“I do,” Lola said, her voice a low rasp. “Because only you call me that.”
Lola’s lips moved down the curve of Annie’s neck, her teeth scraping the sensitive skin of her throat.
Annie groaned, unable and unwilling to stop her noises of need.
Lola’s breasts slid against Annie’s arms, her nipples hard and tight beneath the scrap of her luscious white bikini.
That Lola was turned on made Annie feel even more wild.
“I’ve wanted you for so long.” Annie was delirious, unaware if she was whispering or shouting the words. “I’ve never not wanted to kiss you.”
Lola’s tongue was on her ear, sucking an earlobe. “Me too,” she panted, catching Annie’s gaze for a searing heartbeat before kissing Annie, long and deep, again and again and again.
They rolled around on the rocks, getting caught up in the towels, laughing and kissing until Annie felt like every part of her was flung wide open. Why had she ever resisted this? What was there to be afraid of?
Kissing Lola was like chugging ice-cold lemonade in the dead heat of summer.
It was the slippery, sexy feeling of beads of salty sweat sliding down her back.
It was the moment you step out of a darkened cinema into a sun-drenched afternoon, disorientated but happy, crossing the threshold between worlds like a carefree god.
But Annie wasn’t crossing a threshold anymore. She was already on the other side.