Page 54 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls

More hours bundled into Celene. She couldn’t affirm it faster. “I’d love to.”

“A neighbor from across the street visited. Ms. Greene or something...” Celene shrugged her disinterest. “She accidentally received our junk mail. I swear it was an excuse for her to mention me ‘cuddled up’ in the hammock with you. Look at us getting gossip.”

“All the more persuasive.” Skye laughed under her breath. “There are worse people to get rumors about.”

“Beware saying that, or else I’ll expect compliments all the time.”

And Skye would give them. “I’m just saying. You’re a great sport.”

“Should I...” Jingling keys, Celene rubbed the back of her arm. Something Skye picked up as a fidget. “Drive you home?”

“Luce needs my help. We’ll break down the booth with Zander, and I’ll get her home safely.” She knew she’d later fantasize about going anywhere alone with Celene. Sounded divine. “I appreciate it, though.”

“You’re good to her. Your grandmother.”

“Thanks.”

They lingered, unspeaking, aimlessly watching other patrons hunting for their cars and sharing laughs. Here and there, dogs whined, not keen to leave all the stray pieces of bread littering the ground.

Searching for anything, Skye asked, “What are you reading now?”

Since the first hammock afternoon, Celene had blazed through at least three books. An introverted, voracious reader—also attractive.

Celene watched her own hands play with her keychain. “A narrative about a ninety-two-year-old man coping with his true love dying. He’d known he was gay his whole life and chose the conventional path: a wife he didn’t love, children who don’t speak to him, lies to cover his affairs. He learns to accept himself as he grieves, in the twilight years of his life.”

“You and your depressing books. Why do you read them?”

“To unwind.” She aimed a wry smile at Skye, stirring something deep inside. “Meeting those men at that Pride booth, happy and fulfilled in their partnership, moved me. Like seeing an alternative version of the main character’s destiny.”

Unable to restrain herself, Skye strode close, leaning on the car, too. “That’s deep.”

“What are you reading?”

She couldn’t roll her eyes harder. “I take forever to finish a book. I’m still onThe Mistress of Norwood’s Scientific Method.”

“You and your smutty books,” Celene replied, lightened by sarcasm. “Why do you read them?”

Skye waved a moth away without breaking their stare, their mutually seedy smiles. She shrugged. “To unwind.”

Finding this a sound place to leave the night, Skye lifted her arm, approaching Celene. To walk right into her receivingthe hug. Holding Celene tightly, any remaining negative assumptions fluttered off into the wind.

Overwhelmed by the strong smell of bread at every turn, she cherished the traces of Celene’s perfume. “Thank you for today.”

“Thank you for choosing me,” Celene whispered. It dripped with more vulnerability than anyone would expect of a fake girlfriend. But Celene was much more than anybody. She’d been the girl who cussed out neighborhood bullies. The girl with aster in her hair.

Skye stepped back first; she’d dwell on that all night.

But not as much as the next thing—mid-step, Skye stopped as their bread pendants remained attached.

“Um?” Celene pointed at their connection.

“Oh, uh, Pearl must add coded magnets to these. They’re attracted to each other and no other metals.” That last sentence knocked at Skye’s chest so hard, she fumbled twice before dividing them.

“Clever. Peanut butter and jelly sticking together.” Smiling enticingly soft lips, Celene squeezed Skye’s hand once. “Text me when you’re home.”

Skye teetered back in a dizzying sway. “You, too.”

“See you at our date tomorrow, Skye.”