Page 8 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

THREE

Porchlight Chemistry

E lla wasn’t sure why she was nervous climbing the stairs of the cute little one-story, beige and blue house that had maybe seen better days.

It could have used a new coat of paint, and the second of the three stairs leading up to the porch was a little wobbly, but the house came with warm and homey vibes.

The sheer volume of colorful pillows piled onto the wooden porch swing out front suggested the owner loved this place and valued soft, comfortable spots.

A miniature garden spread to the right, with a happy little gnome kicking his heels in the air.

“And a good day to you, too, sir,” she told him quietly, a manifestation of her nerves. She closed her eyes and hoped to God no one inside heard that.

She turned back to the house, ascended the remaining steps, and knocked on the smoky-blue door, all the while remembering to stay cool and breathe like a human.

At her side, she clutched her copy of the book Doug sold her, notes on the reading, and a bottle of twelve-dollar Merlot that she probably couldn’t afford.

The door swung open, and a glamorous woman with shoulder-length blond hair, likely from a bottle, looked back at Ella with a smile.

She was older than Ella, maybe in her mid- fifties.

But there was nothing motherly about her.

If she’d been her teacher, Ella would have had a crush.

She wore jeans with noticeably frayed hems and stood barefoot, a tattoo of a turtle showing on her big toe.

She grinned with a warmth Ella hadn’t been prepared for.

“Well, hi. Are you Ella?” She reached out and placed her hand over Ella’s.

“I am. Stevie?”

“The one and only, other than Nicks. No one can top her, so I don’t try.

” She tossed open an arm and gestured behind her.

“Come in and get comfortable. The couch, the floor. Hell, if you can climb the wall and sit on the ceiling, we won’t discourage you because you’re new and have wine.

” The words sounded more like a celebration.

“Welcome to Weepers. Follow me.” She accepted the bottle and led Ella down a short hallway, past what looked to be a small room with shelves lined with books.

Stevie had her own mini-library, complete with an oversized, white, comfy chair.

Nice. Ella already liked the feel of this place.

“And here are the rest of our club members,” Stevie said. “They get here early to eat and gab.” Only the members were in the midst of what seemed to be a boisterous conversation and took no notice of Ella’s arrival.

“I don’t care if the meet-cute is on page two or ten, but it needs to be early enough in the book that I’m not starved for character connection,” a young brunette said from her spot on the couch to the left, feet tucked beneath her.

She looked very much at home. Pretty with her long hair pulled partially back and noticeable dimples.

“That’s Ariana,” Stevie called from the adjacent kitchen. A square, open window separated the two rooms.

“Hi,” Ariana said with a cheerful wave. “Stevie said we were getting a newbie tonight. Come in. Come in. I promise we’re friendly.

” She went right back to her conversation with the young blond woman across from her, her hair pulled halfway up, with wisps escaping.

They both seemed to be in their twenties.

“Meet-cutes shouldn’t be rooted in rules,” the blond said in a calmer voice, offering Ella a wave in the exact moment she was making her point. “If the author wants a cute later, I’m flexible.”

“Morgan!” Stevie shouted and pointed through the window at the blond. Aha, she was introducing them as they came up via shout. Ella nodded her understanding. Morgan, it was.

The living room was more spacious than it looked from the outside.

Cozy without feeling cramped. Two plush couches faced each other across a weathered coffee table that reminded Ella of a tree stump.

A pair of oversized armchairs angled inward at the corners, as if they were leaning in to listen.

The whole setup invited conversation, the kind that lingered.

Ella could easily picture a lively book debate happening here, with members going back and forth, wineglasses in hand.

Maybe Stevie had arranged it with book club nights in mind.

Intimate, intentional, a little magical. Ella loved everything about it.

“And that over there is Olive!” Stevie called. A woman on the couch next to Morgan nodded, but didn’t speak. Her hair was dark, and in a past-her-shoulder French braid. She seemed more reserved than the other two, sitting upright with her legs crossed. She offered a conservative smile.

“Hi,” Ella said, raising a hand. “I’m new.”

“Nice to meet you,” Olive replied, leaving it there. She appeared more shy than unfriendly.

“Sorry for babbling over your entrance,” Ariana said, turning to Ella fully. She was the bubbly one, Ella decided. “We fall into this room and just get going. It’s like a light switch. Or Pavlov’s dog.”

“Runaway trains,” Morgan said. She had a kind smile and a gentle demeanor.

“No. I encourage the debate,” Ella said. “I’m not exactly clear on the term meet-cute, though.”

Morgan and Ariana exchanged a look. Even Olive raised her eyebrows.

“We love a newcomer,” Stevie hollered through the window, which kinda reminded Ella of a restaurant’s pickup window. “Who wants this one?”

“Oh, me!” Ariana said, without missing a beat. “A meet-cute is this completely unexpected, sometimes awkward, sometimes awesome first meeting between the two main characters in a romance. It kicks everything off.”

Morgan nodded enthusiastically. “It’s honestly one of my favorite parts of the story. Their first glimmer. They might bump into each other at a coffee shop and spill things all over each other. I love a good spill.”

“Ah, I see,” Ella said. “I don’t think I realized there was a name for that kind of thing.”

“I like the moment, too,” Olive said. “Sometimes there’s an argument. What if there were only one cup of coffee left? Shouting can be sexy.”

“Or they both wanted to buy the same lamp at the rummage sale?” Morgan asked with a smolder.

“Oh, lamp wars are the best!” Ariana said, sitting up taller. “Two women wrestling over a lamp is the stuff of my fantasies.”

Olive frowned. “I’ve never read wrestling in a meet-cute.”

“And isn’t it about time?” Ariana asked. She returned to Ella. “Whatever happens in the meet-cute, the reader wants to see the characters interact more in the future.”

Ella held up her copy. “There’s no wrestling, but I like how this book’s meet-cute is a little fiery.”

“Oh, maybe we should wait for Em before diving into this week’s talk,” Olive said, her brows pulled in.

“Wait no more. I’m here.”

At the sound of the new voice, something sharp and electric zipped down Ella’s spine, an involuntary reaction, as if her body had registered something significant before her brain caught up. She turned toward the door.

The missing member of the club had apparently let herself in.

Ella’s breath caught. The woman was stunning.

Not in a loud or obvious way, but in a manner that made Ella momentarily forget what she’d been saying.

Dark, dark hair with a subtle curl. Eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.

Confidence, but not arrogance. Ella straightened, like her spine had suddenly remembered its job.

“That’s Em,” Stevie yelled.

“True.” The woman smiled, and her voice, low and smooth, settled under Ella’s skin like warm honey. “Joining us?”

“Yes, I am.” Ella heard herself speak before she knew what she was saying. Heat bloomed just below her collarbone. Not the time to be super gay and drooling, but, apparently, that was the plan.

“Yes, I am,” she repeated, and winced inwardly at the echo. What was that? Her voice sounded weird, a little too eager. “I’m Ella. Nice to meet you, Em.”

Stevie brought in a tray overflowing with cheese, crackers, popcorn, Hershey’s Kisses, and grapes.

“All the best snacks for wine.” She hurried back into the kitchen and returned with two open bottles, including the one Ella brought.

“The important stuff. Makes the conversation flow.” She ran her hand through her beautiful hair and sat on the couch next to Olive, leaving the two chairs free for Em and Ella.

That had an interesting ring to it. She settled in, now totally familiar with the term “meet-cute,” and excited for this discussion.

It also felt good to be diving into something new while out of the house, seeing people other than just Rachel.

Ella raised her hand halfway. “Can I start by saying thank you for having me? I’ve never been a part of a book club before.”

“A cherry pop,” Olive said quietly to a raised eyebrow from Morgan and a laugh from Stevie.

“I guess that’s true,” she added. “In fact, I’ve gotten away from reading. Hoping this might change that.”

“We love that you’re here,” Ariana said. She seemed the most outgoing in the group and somewhat of a leader.

The others nodded.

“What did you think of Life in the Fast Lane ?” Morgan asked, referencing the book, and moved until she sat cross-legged on the couch.

“I am shocked to report that I adored it. Especially with the racecar backdrop. It’s not usually my thing, but I was hooked.” She wasn’t sure how personal she should get here. “Confession: I’ve never read a romance novel featuring two women. I thought Bristow nailed it.”

Something about her comment prompted most everyone in the room to exchange a look with someone else. Em seemed to take the cue. “I don’t know where you identify, but I should tell you that most of us fall somewhere along the queer alphabet.”

“Except me,” Stevie said. “I’m the boring straight woman in the room, but I simply adore the sapphic books anyway. The emotional connection is more prominently featured than in the straight ones I used to read.”