Chapter 31
Scottie had slept like a baby after company-wide system crashes and executives screaming about lost data, but she’d been up for most of the previous night, mentally replaying their kiss in the parking lot…and each one after.
But her mind had also shown her flashes of Willow’s tear-streaked face and the broken little noises that had escaped her when she had cried in her arms. Scottie’s insides still clenched whenever she thought about it.
Today, she wanted Willow to be able to forget about that.
She didn’t want her to have to worry about tech glitches or draining batteries even for a second, so she had paced her apartment for hours, trying to come up with the perfect fully analog date—no screens, no Internet, no digital devices; just them.
When Willow stopped in the middle of the Memory Den parking lot, her lips forming an excited “ooh,” Scottie had a feeling her hours of thinking and searching had paid off.
The two-story former warehouse spanned an entire city block. Its pale gray facade didn’t look like much. A spray-painted mural of a giant tomato, a cucumber, and a corn cob stretched around its side, indicating its beginnings as a produce distribution center in the 1930s.
But above the narrow flight of metal stairs was a sign that read Memory Den – Vintage Mall, and Willow stared up at it as if she was about to enter a cathedral or another place of worship.
“A vintage mall?” She glanced back at Scottie.
Scottie nodded. “An entire place full of retro stuff. I thought we could go on a treasure hunt together.”
“Let’s go!” Willow was already heading up the stairs.
Laughing, Scottie followed her inside.
The space was huge! Hundreds of vendor booths were lined up along wide aisles.
The air smelled faintly of old leather and mothballs, but Willow didn’t even seem to notice.
She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. Her face held an expression of childlike wonder as she scanned racks of vintage clothing and shelves full of porcelain figurines, rotary phones, dolls, leather-bound books, and lamps with tasseled shades.
Each booth was a world of its own, carefully curated by its owner. Some looked like museum displays, while others were a chaotic mix of knickknacks.
There was even a fully equipped kitchen from the 1950s, with a checkered floor, vinyl chairs, mint-green Formica countertops, and a white fridge.
They wandered around and browsed the stalls for an hour, then realized there was another level with even more displays upstairs.
“Imagine the stories each item in here could tell,” Willow murmured, entirely immersed. She traced the delicate purple flowers on a teapot with her fingertip.
Goose bumps prickled up Scottie’s arms. Who knew browsing a vintage mall could be so sensual! She tore her gaze away and tried to focus on the interesting items around her.
One jumped out at her, its neon color screaming for attention.
“Ooh, look! I found your Christmas present!” Grinning, Scottie pointed at a lime-green polyester tracksuit.
Laughter burst from Willow. The clear, bright sound cut through the background chatter of other vintage treasure hunters.
Scottie watched her, completely captivated. Making Willow laugh was quickly becoming her favorite pastime.
Willow’s often reserved face was unguarded, and her usually tense shoulders had relaxed. “Don’t you dare buy that!” She grabbed Scottie’s hand and dragged her away from the ugly tracksuit.
There was no spark this time, at least not the electric kind. But the feel of Willow’s soft skin and the graceful fingers she had trustingly slipped into her grasp set off a warm buzz that hummed through Scottie’s body.
Scottie stared at her for a moment, then continued on to the next display like that, fingers intertwined, pretending it was no big deal when her racing heart said it definitely was.
After a few steps, Willow seemed to become aware that she was still holding on to Scottie’s hand—or maybe that she had touched Scottie without zapping her.
“It’s okay,” Scottie said before Willow could let go. “Looks like today isn’t a high-static day. But even if it was, I wouldn’t care. I don’t want you to ever hesitate to touch me just because of a little zap. Unless, of course, you would rather not get zapped yourself.”
“Me?” Willow laughed. It sounded a little shaky. “No. I’m used to it.”
“But you’re also used to not touching people, aren’t you? I don’t want you to constantly rein yourself in around me.”
Willow swallowed. “I don’t want that either, but it’ll take some getting used to.”
“Well, we have plenty of opportunity to practice here.” Scottie waved at one of the many stalls filled with vintage clothes. She took a silk scarf and looped it around Willow’s neck, letting her fingers brush against warm skin.
Willow’s pulse jumped under her fingertips, but she didn’t pull away. “Practice. Right.”
They moved on to the next stall.
Willow stopped in front of a display of hats. “Hold still.” When Scottie did, she placed a fedora on her head and adjusted the brim, her expression fully focused, as if it were of the utmost importance that she get the angle just right.
Scottie grinned at how cute she was.
“There.” Willow swiped a strand of hair off Scottie’s forehead, her knuckle lightly grazing skin. She was holding her breath, then exhaled when no zap happened.
Scottie knew a lifetime of not touching people couldn’t be overcome in one afternoon, but maybe this could be a start.
Willow led her over to a rack of clothes and pulled out a tan suede jacket. As she did, she slid her fingers along the metal bar, discharging any static that might have built up.
Scottie doubted Willow even realized she’d done it. It had probably become an ingrained habit over the years.
“Ooh, you’d look good in this.” Willow held out the jacket. “Try it on.”
“It probably won’t fit,” Scottie said yet put it on anyway. The suede was butter-soft, even though the fabric bunched a little around her shoulders.
“Here.” Willow stepped close, adjusted the collar, and smoothed her hands over the suede.
Scottie suddenly felt as warm as if she were wearing a fur coat. “It’s a little small.” Her voice came out hoarse.
“Yeah. But it looks great anyway. Check it out.” Willow directed her around, toward a gilded mirror leaning against the wall.
“Mm-hmm. Looks wonderful.” Scottie’s gaze wasn’t on the jacket, though; it was on their reflection, framed by the golden edges of the mirror. Willow stood next to her, so close that their bodies were touching from shoulder to hip. She held on to Scottie’s arm with one hand.
A flush rose up Willow’s neck in the mirror. “I’m practicing, okay?”
“I know. I’m really enjoying it.”
Willow blushed again, then bumped Scottie with her hip. “Come on, you. Let’s see if we can find any Star Trek memorabilia.” She helped Scottie take off the jacket, then immediately reached for her hand again.
Smiling, Scottie followed her down the aisle.
~ ~ ~
By the time they made it back to the car, Willow’s feet ached, and it had gotten dark outside. Somehow, they had managed to spend three hours inside the vintage mall!
Her cheeks ached as much as her feet—from laughing and smiling so much.
Never before had a date felt so easy, playful, and unguarded.
She’d had to be careful for so long, always on the lookout for the next zap or tech glitch, that she’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to relax around someone who wasn’t Fiona.
At first, she’d grounded herself any chance she got, but after a while, she had caught herself touching Scottie without brushing her knuckles against a metal rack or shelf beforehand. Still, there hadn’t been a single zap.
Was it just luck, or was it because she felt so comfortable around Scottie?
In any case, it was the best date she’d ever been on.
Neither of them had bought much. Willow had admired a portable Underwood typewriter from the 1930s, but with a glance at the price tag, she had moved on.
Scottie had bought a fun UFO planter for her succulents, while Willow had found a denim jumpsuit that would be perfect as a Christmas gift for her sister.
She sank into the passenger seat with a relieved sigh, grateful to be off her feet. “Will I ever get to drive my own car again?”
It wasn’t an honest complaint. She enjoyed the blissful grin on Scottie’s face too much as she navigated the Civic northward.
Scottie chuckled. “Probably not.” With a light, sure grip on the steering wheel, she drove through the dark streets.
Rain began to drum against the windshield. Instantly, memories of kissing Scottie in the hotel parking lot flooded back, and Willow wondered if it would happen every time it rained.
She thought she knew where they were going—probably to Le Pigeon or one of the other restaurants on East Burnside—but Scottie kept driving, weaving through streets Willow didn’t recognize.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Willow asked after a while, squinting through the rain-splattered windshield. “Sorry my car has no GPS. Feel free to use your phone.”
“Don’t need it,” Scottie said. “I know exactly where I’m going.”
Finally, she pulled into a small, empty parking lot on a street that seemed mostly deserted.
Several low structures sat in the darkness beyond, but none of them looked like a restaurant.
“This is where we’ll have dinner?” Willow asked.
Scottie chuckled at her puzzled expression. “Yep. Just trust me, okay?”
They got out of the car, and Willow brushed her knuckles against the door to get rid of any static.
Scottie had told her she would rather risk getting zapped than not being touched at all, and Willow wholeheartedly agreed.
But while it was nice to not have to be so vigilant all the time, she still thought a jolt-free touch was the best alternative of all.
Scottie came over to her side, opened an umbrella, and put Willow’s hand on the bend of her arm. “Close your eyes and hold on to me.”