Page 38 of Balancing Act

After hanging up, Beth exhaled deeply, her fingers instinctively seeking comfort in her hair, weaving through the strands and tugging slightly.

“Everything okay?” Jamie ventured cautiously, as Beth rejoined her. She suddenly wanted to do everything she could to ease Beth’s stress.

“The joys of co-parenting,” Beth replied, her voice regaining its familiar, light timbre as she closed the gap between them slightly. They stood together in a comfortable silence, the earlier tension dissipating.

“From where I’m standing, it seems like you’re doing a great job,” Jamie said, inwardly cringing at the cliché. She watched a smile flicker back onto Beth’s face, and relief washed over Jamie.

“So, uh, the game tomorrow,” Jamie rambled, suddenly conscious of how hot her cheeks felt. “Are we still going together? Not together like that, but, like, you know, taking the ferry, uh, simultaneously...” She made to take a small step back and out of Beth’s close proximity. She only stopped when she felt Beth’s hand clasp around her forearm the same way she had done a month ago when they’d had their talk in the stairwell.

“Yes, Jamie,” Beth responded, her smile broadening. “We’re still going together. We’ll leave from my house around ten.” The simplicity of her affirmation, underscored by the softness in her eyes, left Jamie feeling like she was floating.

“Cool,” she said, smiling. Beth’s eyes swept over her body, and Jamie gulped, unsure about what was coming next.

“I should get going. See you tomorrow.”

Once more, Beth’s hand lingered on Jamie’s forearm, giving her a slight squeeze. But this touch was brief and fleeting, and as Beth pulled away, Jamie couldn’t help but miss her touch already.

“See you,” Jamie breathed, as Beth slipped out into the night.

NINE

BETH

The sound of the front door opening and closing again floated up from the lower level to Beth’s bathroom, where she stood with a chunk of her blonde hair wrapped around the barrel of a curling iron.

“Hey, it’s me!” Jamie called out from downstairs. Beth tapped her phone to illuminate the time, and sure enough, Jamie was fifteen minutes early.

The sound of Jamie’s voice brought a mix of anticipation and nerves. She wasn’t sure why Jamie’s presence had this effect on her, but there it was—an exhilarating rush that was getting harder to ignore. She exited her bedroom and went to the loft that opened to the floor below.

“I’m early, I know. I got your text saying to let myself in when I got here.”

“Hey, I’m up here. Come on up. I’m finishing my hair.” Beth grinned as she noticed the two cups in Jamie’s hands. “You stopped for coffee?” she said excitedly, as Jamie ascended the stairs.

“I did.” Jamie flashed her a grin as she handed Beth one of the cups. “Nice hair,” she teased, indicating her half-done style. “I really like the look you’re going for.”

“Ha-ha,” Beth retorted dryly. “I wasn’t expecting you to be early. I had every intention of being ready to go when you arrived.” She took a sip of the drink Jamie had handed her, using the lip of the cup to hide her amusement. “Oh my God, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” Jamie fired back quickly, and Beth laughed.

“Your maturity level is astounding,” Beth deadpanned.

“It’s a wildflower honey lavender oat-milk latte. Obviously, I had to get it because of the lavender,” Jamie said, holding up the cup. Jamie’s smile stretched wide, revealing irresistible dimples that caught Beth’s attention. As they moved through the door to her bedroom, Beth noticed Jamie’s gaze quickly scanning the room before they stepped into the en suite.

“Obviously,” Beth echoed, her voice light as she reached for the curling iron that lay forgotten on the counter.

“Sorry about being so early,” Jamie continued. “Amanda tells me I have an annoying habit of being fifteen minutes early to everything. But I was raised by a man who always said ‘If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re ten minutes late’ and I guess it kind of stuck.” She leaned against the vanity.

“I don’t mind,” she said.

Beth tried to concentrate on the curling iron in her hand, but Jamie’s presence was too much. She stole a glance in the mirror, taking in Jamie’s figure reflected behind her. Jamie’s style was effortless. Her loose, cream-colored Puget Sound Pride crew neck draped casually over her frame, paired with tapered dark green pants and classic black high-top sneakers. It was all so Jamie—practical and effortlessly appealing, much like the first night they had met.

“Plus, I have news for you,” Jamie said.

Beth felt a familiar flutter in her stomach as Jamie’s proximity brought a mix of comfort and confusion. Their natural ease around each other was exhilarating and baffling, especiallynow, in the intimacy of her bedroom. Beth redirected her focus to her reflection in the mirror, trying to mask the quickening of her heartbeat.

“Look at your coffee cup,” Jamie said, her grin infectious.

Beth examined the cup from Latte Love, the local coffee shop, and giggled softly upon seeing the alteration. Someone had creatively doodled over the logo with a permanent marker, renaming it “A Latte Love for the Drip Drop Café.”