Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
“So, wait.” Spencer leaned against the reinforced brick wall of Christine’s apartment, staring like she’d just confessed to joining a cult. “She’s a Mormon? Like, an actual Mormon?”
Christine sprawled out on the floor, one arm draped dramatically over her eyes like she was starring in a vintage melodrama. “Yeah, I mean, I guess so?”
Spencer pulled out her phone, scrolling. “Are Mormons even allowed to be gay?”
Christine groaned, shoving her feet under the bed. “That feels like a trick question.”
Spencer squinted at her screen. “According to literally every source, that’s a hell no.”
Christine squeezed her eyes shut. “Great. Fantastic. Love that for me.”
Spencer snorted. “What if she’s trying to convert you?”
Christine rolled her head to the side, scowling. “You do realize I run a brewery, right? Alcohol is my entire personality.”
Spencer arched a brow. “Yeah, and people do stupid things for love. We literally just watched a girl on the news marry her VR boyfriend.”
Christine sighed dramatically. “She’s so hot, though, Spence. I might go Mormon for her.”
Spencer grinned. “I’d give it a week. Maybe two if they have good snacks.”
Ever the concerned citizen, Gruit trotted over and sniffed Christine’s face. Upon determining she wasn’t dead, he flopped onto his back, exposing his belly like a sacrificial offering.
Christine obliged, tickling his belly. His eyes rolled back in his head. She wished someone would scratch her belly.
Spencer flopped onto the bed face-first. “Didn’t you say she was like, mad flirty and almost kissed you?”
Christine grunted. “Yes. So either she’s into me, or she’s a very affectionate missionary.”
Spencer peeked over the edge of the bed. “Right, but what’s the endgame if she is into you? Secret rendezvous? Mormon wife? A promise ring and a lifetime supply of casserole?”
Christine opened her mouth to respond, but Spencer suddenly sat up, frowning at her screen. “Oh. Oh.”
Christine blinked. “What?”
Spencer turned the screen toward her.
“The Mormon Church is like a huge supporter of Tate.”
Christine shot up so fast that Gruit huffed in protest. “You’re kidding.”
Spencer scrolled, her expression twisting. “Nope. Full statement. ‘Commitment to strong values,’ ‘moral leadership,’ ‘a guiding force for the future.’ Blah, blah, basically a big ol’ yikes.”
Christine snatched the screen, skimming the article. A cold weight settled in her chest. “I mean, I guess this tracks.”
“What did the doc have to say about this?” Spencer asked, watching her closely.
“We… didn’t exactly talk politics.”
Spencer gave her a look.
“It didn’t come up! What was I supposed to do, drill her on political views over grilled cheese?”
Spencer crossed her arms. “I’m just saying it’d be real good to know where she stands before you start having feelings.”
Christine flopped back onto the floor. “God, why am I attracted to complicated women?”
Spencer shrugged. “Genetics.”
Before Christine could argue, a voice rang out from the hallway.
“As if you could ever be a Mormon wife.”
Silver strolled in, flopped onto the bed like she owned the place, and grinned. “Chris, you’re literally the gayest person I know. You own more flannel than an entire REI store.”
Christine chucked a pillow at her. Silver deflected it effortlessly. The pillow landed directly on Gruit’s head, but he barely acknowledged it. He just shoved it aside with a lazy paw and continued existing in his usual state of mild disappointment.
“What’s going on?” Silver asked, stretching out like a cat.
Spencer smirked. “Christine’s dating a Mormon girl.”
Christine groaned. “Not dating. We had lunch, and I briefly considered sleeping with her. That’s it.”
Silver raised an eyebrow. “So you’re no longer considering sleeping with her?”
Christine hesitated. “…I’m still considering it.”
Spencer cackled. “Wait, aren’t Mormons into that whole extra wives thing?” She pulled up another tab, scrolling dramatically. “Maybe she’s recruiting you for a celestial harem.”
“That’s dumb.” Silver rolled her eyes. “They don’t do that anymore.”
Christine sighed. “You are both dumb.”
Silver grinned. “I just think it’s funny. Your type is apparently repressed.”
“That is not my type.”
Silver ticked off on her fingers. “Naomi? Repressed. That one musician? Repressed. That other Naomi? Also repressed.”
Spencer whistled. “Wow. Two Naomis?”
“It’s a great name,” Christine muttered.
Silver turned back to her smugly. “So what’s the read on this one? Like, actual Mormon, or just grew up in it and still has weird guilt about drinking coffee?”
Christine frowned. “How would I even know that?”
“See if she swears. If she says flip instead of fuck, you’ve got your answer.”
Spencer snorted, still scrolling through her phone. “Also, if she refuses coffee but inhales a 64-ounce Mountain Dew, it’s over.”
Christine groaned. “I hate that you two are probably right.”
Silver kicked at her lightly. “Listen, I say go for it. Clandestine sex is hot. Plus, no in-laws to deal with.”
Christine gave her a look. “Maybe you should do her.”
Spencer chuckled. “Silver could never date a Mormon. You can’t spend your entire life corrupting people and then date someone who needs to confess after second base.”
Silver gasped, hand over her chest. “Excuse me. I do not corrupt people.”
“I literally watched you convince Dax to break up with his partner because, and I quote, ‘monogamy is for the weak.’”
Silver huffed. “That was different.”
“How?”
Silver smirked back. “Because I was right.”
Spencer rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”
Silver grinned, then suddenly lunged, grabbing Spencer’s waist. “Call me an idiot again!”
Spencer yelped, trying to pull away. “Oh my God, you are an idiot.”
“Take it back!” Silver cackled, trying to pin her down.
Christine sighed as they started wrestling, shoving at each other on the bed like overgrown children.
Spencer managed to get Silver into a headlock, triumphant. Gruit, distressed by the chaos, jumped off the bed and barked at them. When that didn’t work, he jumped back up and licked Silver’s ear.
“Perfect, Gruit,” Silver muttered. “I was just thinking I wanted to reek of Eau de Dumpster Tongue.”
Christine swatted at the bed. “Uh, hello? Back to me? I’m in crisis mode.”
Silver and Spencer sat up like students caught talking in class.
Christine narrowed her eyes at Silver. “Also, stop flirting with my sister.”
Silver huffed. “I’m not flirting with her.”
Spencer stood, stretching. “I have to leave anyway.” She sighed, grabbing her coat. “Which is too bad because I love a good relationship trauma arc.”
Christine smirked. “You say that like you don’t have enough of your own.”
Spencer shot her finger guns. “Exactly. It’s way more fun when it’s not my mess.”
She slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing at the door. “See you around, Sister,” she said, drawing out the word with a smirk, full of mock holiness and just the right amount of teasing.
A beat of silence settled between them before Silver spoke again, her voice quieter this time. “I wasn’t flirting with her.”
Christine smirked. “That would be a first for you.”
Silver’s expression darkened, just for a second, before she leaned back against the headboard, crossing her arms. “Oh, okay.”
Christine shrugged. “I’m just saying you flirt with everyone.”
Silver scoffed, kicking her legs out dramatically. “I do not flirt with everyone.”
“Silver, last week you called the guy who fixed our Wi-Fi an unsung hero of the modern age and then asked if he had a wife.”
Silver rolled her eyes. “That was a genuine inquiry. The man restored civilization to this apartment.”
Christine sighed, shaking her head, but her phone buzzed before she could say more.
A message.
Oakland
Lunch Wednesday?
Another buzz.
Oakland
I mean with me. Btw.
Christine grinned.
Silver groaned. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
Christine locked her screen. “Yup.”
“You’re doomed.”
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