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“White, please. Red gives me a headache.”

“Me too! Something we have in common.” Megan went to a wine cooler and opened the glass-fronted door. She asked, “Riesling, Pinot Grigio or gewürztraminer?”

Vanessa frowned.

“Guh-what?”

Megan laughed as she extracted a bottle. She took a wine glass from a collection on the counter and poured just a splash into it.

“Gewürztraminer,” Megan repeated. “I brought it tonight; it’s one of my favorites. This one is kinda dry, not overly sweet.” She handed the glass to Vanessa. “Here, try a taste.”

Vanessa did. However, instead of sucking the wine down like she normally would have done, with Megan sounding like an expert and watching her taste this Guhvertza-whatever, she felt compelled to do that swishing thing snooty wine people did.

“Hey, I like that,” she declared after swallowing the small taste.

“Right? Isn’t it different? More?”

“Please.”

Megan did a full pour into Vanessa’s glass and then poured herself one. “I wasn’t going to have another one,” Megan said. “But I can’t have you drinking alone, can I?” She then clinked her glass to Vanessa’s. “Cheers.”

Vanessa was afraid that Megan would suggest they rejoin the others in the backyard. Being honest with herself, she really did not want that. It was so comfortably companionable to be alone in the kitchen with this incredible-looking woman with the auburn hair. Fortunately, Megan made no move towards the back door.

“So, are you some kind of wine expert?” Vanessa asked.

“God, no.” Megan said after another sip. “No, I took the time to learn some things about the varieties I like—it helps me make better shopping choices. But that’s only, like, a handful of whites. Reds I have categorized as Mild Headache, Bad Headache and Fuck Me, I Wanna Die.”

Vanessa laughed. “You are too funny.” All day long she had been hoping Megan would come into La Vida Mocha and had been disappointed when that hadn’t happened. The pure surprise and pleasure of encountering her here was still making Vanessa feel buzzed, more so than this delicious but impossible-to-pronounce wine.

Then, because she really did not want to risk Megan deciding to rejoin the others, Vanessa walked into the living room, looking around, hoping Megan would follow, feeling rather happy when she did.

“I’ve known Angela and Dee for a while now but I’ve never been to their place,” Vanessa said. “It’s really cool.”

“Yeah, the house is super cute and it’s a great neighborhood,” Megan said. But then she added in a conspiratorial whisper after making sure no one else was around, “It’s a little busy in here, though, for my tastes.”

“Oh, thank God!” Vanessa said with her own whisper. “I was thinking the same thing!”

The small living room was just full of stuff—not like hoarders lived here; it was all very neat and organized, and certainly cozy; but it was clear that two women with two distinct tastes had decided to create a mishmash of each other’s interests and styles. The result was a room that looked like an over-caffeinated decorator had run rampant in it. Vanessa’s eyes just didn’t know where to go and it was a relief of sorts when she spotted a framed picture on one wall that arrested her attention.

“Oh my God, that is beautiful,” she murmured, stepping around the furniture to stand in front of the picture. It was a poster-sized black-and-white image of a ballerina in a black leotard stretching at the barre. The picture did an excellent job of portraying not only the artistry of the dancer and her commitment to her craft but also the incredible musculature of her legs and torso.

“I love this,” Vanessa whispered.

“Thank you,” Megan said. She also came to stand in front of the picture.

Vanessa’s head whipped to her right to look at Megan. Megan smiled shyly.

“I drew that,” she said.

“No!” Vanessa stared at the ballerina again. “You drew this? Wait...are you sure?”

Megan laughed. She rocked back on her heels with her hands in the pockets of her dress.

“Of course I’m sure. It took me two months to draw this one, a couple of years ago. It’s done in graphite. When I finished it and posted it on my website, Angela messaged me right away saying she wanted to buy it. Not a print, the original. I gave her a bit of a discount on the price because we’re friends.”

Vanessa stared at her and then made a decision. She just had to know more about this woman and she was no longer willing to leave it to chance. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful—though the more time she spent with Megan the harder it was to take her eyes off her. It was that she was...compelling. That was the word she was looking for. Compelling. Vanessa wanted to know more about Megan’s life and her art and why this interesting and...compelling woman appeared to be single. Also, she just flat-out wanted her.

“We should hang out sometime,” Vanessa stated.