Chapter 12 #2
They sat at their table a while longer, drifting into conversation about unfinished books, and even places in the city that held memories they’d rather avoid. But beneath every harmless comment lay a pull Debra tried and failed not to feel.
When Billie finally rose, she moved around the table and helped Debra into her coat. Billie’s fingers brushed her neck as she fixed the collar, most likely innocently, but Debra’s entire body reacted as if it had been a deliberate act.
“Thank you for lunch, and…for everything else, you know?”
Billie reached out a hand and stroked her knuckles against Debra’s skin. “You’re welcome, Ms Allen.”
The formality made Debra smile, but she still felt the need to correct Billie. “Debra is fine.”
Billie paused. Then, in a tone that had every nerve ending igniting inside Debra, she leaned in and said, “Debra, may I walk you back?”
God, her name had never sounded like that before. “Y-yes.”
The city moved around them in its usual rhythm, the constant drift of tourists and manic traffic…
while a cyclist weaved through gaps with a muttered apology, but Billie barely absorbed any of it.
She walked side by side with Debra, their steps aligning effortlessly.
Billie kept her hands tucked into her coat pockets, her chin angled down, and her collar turned up against the cold.
Every so often, she felt Debra glance at her, and there was no mistaking the faint upturn of her lips. It was a surprised, almost disbelieving look…as though she couldn’t quite reconcile the idea of Billie Brown walking her home. Truthfully, Billie couldn’t either.
She’d intended to leave after lunch. She’d rehearsed the lines in her head on the walk from her car to the restaurant. She was supposed to thank Debra for inviting her, she was supposed to say how lovely it had been, and then she was supposed to step back and smile, while making a clean exit.
But when Debra had risen from the table and gathered her things, something inside Billie refused to loosen its grip. She couldn’t name it, and right now she didn’t want to, but it kept her moving beside Debra and matching her pace along the embankment.
“Are you heading back to the shop?”
Billie pulled herself out of a very unexpected daydream. “Usually, I would. I chose to take the afternoon off before I left earlier, though.”
“Do you always work this late?”
Billie side-glanced at Debra. “Most days.”
“Forgive me, but that sounds lonely.”
Billie lifted a shoulder. “It keeps me busy.”
Debra paused by the railings, leaning against them as she looked out over the water. A busker played something acoustic from across the pavement, and as Billie turned to watch Debra, she found the sweetest smile on her lips.
“You know,” Debra said. “You surprise me.”
Billie leaned beside her, confused. “Do I?”
“I thought you’d be terrible company outside of work.”
Huh. That was quite the observation to make. “Terrible?”
“You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys idle conversation.”
Billie laughed. “I don’t, but this doesn’t feel idle.”
Debra turned to her, the wind catching on her hair and tugging loose strands around her face. “Then what does it feel like?”
The honest answer was too much—dangerous, unwise, too good—so she swallowed it down and went for something safer. “Different.”
Debra held her gaze. “Different isn’t always bad.”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Just this morning, Billie would have claimed that different was no good for her, but standing here with Debra, different wasn’t all that bad.
It was a damn sight better than sitting alone in her office at the shop, wondering what loneliness waited for her back at her apartment.
Debra nudged her elbow. “Come on. I don’t want to overstep and never hear from you again.”
They continued walking, the quiet between them deepening in a way that felt almost intimate.
Billie tried not to stare, but her gaze kept shifting to Debra of its own accord.
She noted the flush in her cheeks and that smile at nothing in particular.
And then Billie felt that pull again, only this time…
she didn’t want to fight it away. Not so strongly, anyway.
This was what she’d forgotten she craved.
Not the meticulous choreography of sex and not the ritual of control.
Absolutely not the pristine symmetry of transactional intimacy.
But this. The witness of another person beside her.
A conversation that wasn’t strategy. Company that didn’t need theatre and a presence that asked for nothing except that she showed up and stayed.
It was terrifying, but right here and now, Billie didn’t want it to end.
Debra slowed as they reached the steps that led towards the bridge. “You don’t seem like someone who takes time off.”
Oh, she had that right. Billie didn’t know what ‘time off’ meant. “I don’t.”
“Maybe you should. Recharge, you know?”
For some reason, Billie was actually considering what Debra was saying. “Maybe.”
Debra searched her face, those blue eyes narrowed. “What would you even do with a day off?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Billie exhaled, both amused and a little saddened. “It’s been years.”
“Then that’s your homework.” Debra’s smile brightened against the fading light. “Figure out who Billie Brown is when she’s not in a suit. Because I know that deep down, this isn’t who you really are.” Debra nudged her shoulder. “As hot as it may be, I think you’re a teddy bear at heart.”
Emotion swelled in Billie’s throat. She didn’t know how this woman had the ability to disarm her, but it was happening whether Billie wanted it to or not. “That might take a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Debra may have said that lightly, and Billie didn’t know whether she truly meant it, but those words settled inside of her regardless.
They reached the corner where they should have parted ways—Billie’s car was a few streets away, and Debra’s flat was nearby but in the opposite direction.
Billie should have ended it here before this turned into something she couldn’t control, but Debra lingered, and Billie realised that she couldn’t move.
Debra shifted her bag on her shoulder. “Would you…like to come in for coffee?”
Billie froze.
Why had her pulse just tripped over itself at the mere mention of coffee?
It was a harmless invitation. A normal invitation.
Except normal had never been safe terrain for Billie. She knew how to navigate desire. She was a master at guiding it, shaping it, and containing it, but this…a coffee table, two cups, and a conversation without choreography? Yeah, this was the kind of closeness she didn’t know how to survive.
Her instinct screamed at her to walk away.
She’d managed to avoid moments exactly like this for a long time. Moments where control slipped and wanting made you visible. Moments where someone could see you, and worse…keep looking. But Debra wasn’t like anyone she’d met before.
Most women came to Billie wanting something clear and definable.
Be it pleasure, escape, or affirmation, Billie knew how to give all of it without giving anything of herself in return.
It was a dance she’d mastered. Only Debra didn’t move like that.
She wasn’t performing, and she wasn’t chasing some kind of experience.
She wasn’t looking at Billie the way clients looked at her.
She was looking at her.
Just her.
And that gaze, that soft and unwavering care in her eyes, was very close to undoing Billie entirely.
She cleared her throat. “Coffee?”
Debra regarded her with a cautious, hopeful smile. “Yes. Just coffee.”
Oh, you need to walk away right now.
Billie needed the safety of her rules and boundaries. She needed silence while she mulled over the fact that she’d even agreed to lunch with Debra Allen. She should have done the sensible thing that she was good at…and avoid this woman at all costs.
But she nodded. “All right.”
“Good.” Debra’s smile grew wider. “I’m just around the corner.”
As they crossed the road towards Debra’s building, Billie felt a truth settle deep in her chest with finality. For all her rules, and all her rehearsed restraint…she was entirely lost.