Page 39

Aargh! We’re supposed to be talking about eating pie!

Chapter 11

“Want to hang at my place tonight?” Becca asked as she and Krissy, after donning their cover-ups, started walking off the beach a couple of hours later. “I mean, I know you have to work tomorrow, but so do I. We could leave together.”

“Ooh, like an old married couple,” Krissy said.

“I take umbrage at the ‘old’ part, though,” Becca replied, purposely bumping into Krissy.

“Umbrage?”

“It’s a fancy word for ‘offence’ which apparently they didn’t teach you at investment advisor school.”

“Well, what they did teach me at investment advisor school is to say, ‘fuck you,’” Krissy retorted. “Anyway, don’t be ridiculous. You know, if we were a couple, we wouldn’t even qualify as having an age-gap. I think it has to be, like, at least ten years.”

“Good,” Becca began, “because if we were a couple, I wouldn’t want you introducing me to everyone as your ‘old lady.’”

“I’d at least say ‘sexy old lady.’”

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Becca exclaimed, putting her arm around Krissy’s shoulder—delighted when Krissy then put her arm around her waist. They continued walking like that, Becca both wanting them to remain like this because it felt so right; but also not wanting it because it was doing nothing to help her stop continuing to wish for something she couldn’t have.

She thought about those four women who had approached her on the beach—every single one of them her type, at least in terms of looks, though she didn’t much care for that whole Ruby Rose style one of them was sporting. Becca liked long hair or, if it was to be short, a cool and sophisticated bob.

It was evident that more than one of the women—if not all of them—were into her. Becca supposed she probably could have had her pick. She certainly could use a date—and a lot more. It had been…what?...just after New Year’s when she and a woman named Jo, whom she had met at a fire safety seminar, went on a couple of dates, had sex once and then decided the spark wasn’t there. Here it was, now May, and her only bedroom companion since Jo has been Mrs. O’Leary.

And Krissy, she reminded herself.

They slept together—in the most literal sense of that term—at least two times a week, sometimes more.

Maybe that should stop.

But Becca didn’t want it to stop. There was no harm in it and, besides, Becca knew she’d get over this stupid crush eventually.

Which brought her mind back to the four fangirls…

What was that saying? The best way to get over a woman is to get under a new one. And Becca certainly wouldn’t have minded getting under the redhead of the group. Lord Almighty, she was stunning. Ariel was her name—and before Becca had had a chance to ask, Ariel informed her that, yes, she had been named after the Little Mermaid. When Becca had laid eyes on her, she had thought of the silly search for the so-called Redheaded Vanessa which a fair number of Carlsbad’s gay women were conducting. Finding that woman, apparently, would make the Lesbian Holy Trinity would be complete.

Becca remembered thinking that if Ariel lived in Carlsbad, then the search was over. The Holy Trinity was definitely complete.

Becca had posed for pictures with the women, individually and as a group. When her picture with Ariel had been taken, Becca had asked if Ariel would tag her in it on Instagram and then had shared her handle with the redhead.

Hmm…

Becca was considering that perhaps if Ariel did remember to tag her, she’d then send her a DM thanking her. Then, perhaps, after a few messages were exchanged, a suggestion could be made…

Coffee? Drinks?

It could work.

But, goddamn…

It felt so good walking like this with Krissy.

“Let’s watch age-gap lesbian movies the rest of the day,” Becca suggested. “Loving Annabelle and Carol; things like that.”

“Love it,” Krissy replied. “Oh, there’s one with Kate Winslet I haven’t seen yet. Ammonite. A period drama.”

Becca groaned.