Page 13 of Unstoppable You (Sapph in the City #6)

Chapter Thirteen

Delaney

Larison and Jo had cheered me on while I stripped in the dark and ran into the ocean, crossing my fingers that I didn’t step on a crab or jellyfish. The water was cold as balls and I gasped and shivered as I forced myself to dunk my head underwater.

The cold was sharp, like microscopic knives stabbing me in every single pore. It almost stole my breath, so I breached the surface again, dragging in a gasping breath.

“Holy fuck, it’s fucking cold!” I yelled.

“We’ve got your towel ready!” Larison called.

“How long do I have to be in for it to qualify as skinny-dipping?” I asked, clutching my arms to my chest as I tried to conserve any body heat. My teeth clacked against each other loudly. How did people do this on a regular basis? It was awful. All I wanted was to be warm again.

“The dictionary defines it as ‘swim in the nude’ so I think you gotta swim,” Jo called out, her face lit up by the glow of her phone.

Fuck, I had to swim too? Fine. I unclamped my arms from my chest and sloshed forward, doing a few jerky doggy paddles. I could swim, like a lot of kids raised on the coast, but I wasn’t winning any Olympic medals.

“Okay, I swam!”

“We saw. It’s been documented,” Larison said, giving me a thumbs up.

Great, now I could be done. My body had stopped shaking and had gone mostly numb with a mild burning sensation. Just awful.

With stiff legs, I sloshed out of the water, the sand sticking to my feet. The minute the wind hit my wet skin, I started shaking again. Jo was there to fold a massive bath sheet around me.

“That was terrible,” I said as my teeth started to chatter again.

“But you did it!” Larison said, giving me a hug. I leaned into her warmth.

“We should have brought some tea or something with us,” Jo said as they guided me back toward my clothes. I’d brought a spare set of sweats to put on post-dip and pulled them out of the bag. Getting the clothes on over my damp skin wasn’t easy, but I managed and then slid some sandals on my feet.

Larison absolutely blasted the heat when we got into the car and Jo let me have the passenger side with the seat warmer. My friends were the best.

Shoving my hands in front of the air vents, I started giggling.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing,” I said, still laughing. Larison and Jo joined me, as if it was contagious and before I knew it, we were driving around on random roads blasting a playlist and singing at the top of our lungs.

This . This was what I’d missed out on. What I’d been wanting. I looked through the window and up at the stars and just…soaked in this moment. I wanted to save it forever.

While I couldn’t bottle this feeling, I could take pictures and video, so I did. That was something to document my first item checked off the Fuckit List.

We all threw ourselves into the hot tub when we got back and drank too many margaritas until we had to crawl our way to bed.

The next morning, I woke up with a hangover, but it was totally worth it. I dragged my ass into the kitchen and made a nice greasy breakfast for the three of us and we all perked up after eating and downing some coffee.

Before we went back to the city, we hit the downtown area and played tourists for the morning and afternoon. We took silly pictures in front of the lighthouse, ate massive sugar-drenched cookies from Sweet’s Sweets Bakery, and checked out the bookstore. Larison got deep in shop talk with the pretty blonde bookseller who said she owned the shop and we had to practically drag her away, but not before she exchanged info with the owner and promises of meeting up again.

Before we got on the road, we hit the bakery again, grabbing a box of assorted croissants and it made me think of James and the day she’d given me her apology.

“That’s a serious face,” Jo said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “What are you thinking about?”

I’d go naked into the ocean again in front of the entire world before I admitted that I was thinking about James.

“Monday,” I said, because that was a reasonable thing to be thinking about.

“Don’t remind me,” Jo said. “I have a presentation next week and I’m not looking forward to it.”

Mission: distracted.

I didn’t think about James (much) until later when I was scrolling through social media and had a notification pop up.

James had liked one of my pictures.

Stalker.

I opened up the messages and typed out a message before I could question myself.

Guess your weekend was pretty boring if you’re liking mine.

I couldn’t stop myself from being snarky at her. It was payback for surprising me at the grocery store. Seeing her had been…weird. Just weird. Out of context and it had made my stomach get all twisty. She was trying to weasel her way back into my life and I wasn’t going to allow it.

Yet here I was, messaging her.

My weekend wasn’t as good as yours, that’s definitely true. Congrats on the skinny-dipping.

Fucking hell. I shouldn’t have posted anything alluding to that. I didn’t want James to think about me skinny-dipping.

My first instinct was to tell her to go fuck herself, but then she’d know that she was bothering me.

Before I could think of what to respond, she sent another message.

How cold was it?

I guess I could answer that. Cold as HELL.

I bet. You’re braver than I am.

Huh. That was interesting. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or if she was just blowing smoke up my ass. The latter was most likely. James’s goal to get into my good graces was so transparent.

I’m not that brave. And did you know that it’s not skinny-dipping unless you’re actually swimming? Why the hell was I talking to her? I couldn’t seem to stop. My fingers kept tapping out responses.

Didn’t know that, but now I do. I did it once back in college to impress someone.

Interesting.

Did it work?

She typed and then stopped and then typed again. No. She ended up hooking up with my roommate instead.

Wait, what? She?

This was new information. Back in school James had been part of a group of girls who seemed to be totally into guys. They spent inordinate amounts of time talking about which guys in our class were cute, how they were going to ask them to dance, and who was “dating.” We were so young that no one was actually doing much, but holding hands in the hallway and being social media official was a big deal.

James had been totally part of that group and I still remembered her “dating” a boy or two.

High school had been murkier because I’d done whatever I could to avoid knowing anything about her, but I was pretty sure she’d gone with some guy to prom at least.

How did I respond to this? Was I supposed to draw attention to the pronoun?

That sucks, I’m sorry. There. That was supportive-ish.

Thanks. I was kind of a mess then. I mean, more than I am now.

I found myself responding again. Why couldn’t I stop?

We’re both different people than we used to be.

I mean, I didn’t have a different sexuality now, but I had changed a lot from that shy and bullied girl I’d been.

I wanted to ask her about the “she” and get more information. When had she figured that out? How had she figured it out? Had she always been attracted to girls? Did she still like guys? How did any of it work?

The questions kept going off in my brain like reloading fireworks. It was hard to think about anything else.

Why was this revelation fucking me up like this? It didn’t matter to me if James was a lesbian. Didn’t affect my life in the slightest. So why was my stomach churning and my palms sweating?

I had to set down my phone and do a lap around my apartment for a minute. I needed to stop talking to James right now. Shoving a window open, I gulped in fresh air.

My phone went off with another notification, but I ignored it. Instead, I went to my desk, shoved my headphones on, and opened my inbox. The rule was no work on weekends, but I needed to distract myself with something right now. Emails were the easiest option.

* * *

I avoided my phone for most of the night, getting ahead on my social media schedule, clearing out my inbox, and making lasagna to avoid it.

I’d calmed down from the strangeness of earlier, but I still didn’t want to go back and forth with James again so soon.

My parents had sent me a few messages, asking when I was coming to visit. I didn’t get over to see them as much as I should, considering they only lived ten minutes away. It had been a few weeks since I saw them, and I was more than overdue for a visit. I said I’d come by next Sunday, stopping at their favorite Italian place to bring dinner.

You really are the best daughter Mom sent. It was nice to hear, but it also made my chest tight with anxiety.

I always envied anyone who had a sibling, but now that I’d been through the ringer with Connor, I wasn’t so sure. James had drawn a shitty hand in the sibling department, that was for sure.

James. She had responded again, and the notification was going to bother me like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

I didn’t open it until I had gotten into bed with a book.

Thanks for listening to me, Delaney. I really appreciate it.

It was still hard to tell if she was actually nice or if she was saying what she thought I wanted to hear. The only way to tell would be to spend more time with her, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to do that.

Right?

* * *

What’s the weirdest suggestion that you’ve given someone for a name?

It was Monday and I was on my morning break at the bookstore and I was currently bored in line at the coffee shop while the people in front of me acted like they were new to the planet and had never ordered coffee before.

Ohhh so many. I really have to keep my personal judgment out of it. I’ve had a few clients that were insistent that they wanted all creative spellings for more common names. That’s always an adventure.

Her career absolutely fascinated me. It made sense with her getting an English degree. Names were words, after all. And she had the cachet of going through life with an unusual name, so she could talk down parents who were determined to name their kid Tayble or something.

What’s your favorite name? I asked her when the line still hadn’t moved. Everyone around me was starting to get pissed off as the person at the front stood there squinting at the menu as if no one else was in a rush.

I have way too many. Some are more special than others. Right now any name that one of my trans clients pick is my favorite. Because sometimes I’m the first person who they get to hear use it. Those moments get really emotional.

That was really beautiful. The line finally moved, and I had to remember what I was supposed to be doing. Right, coffee.

I started to give my order, but the cute barista finished it for me.

“Am I here that much?” I asked.

She grinned. “I just have a memory for certain orders.” We made eye contact for a little bit longer than was standard between barista and customer. I found myself fumbling for both my words and my card.

I managed to get my act together and move to the pickup line without making too much of a fool of myself. It wasn’t like she was flirting with me or anything. Right? She was just being nice and hoping I’d tip her better for remembering my order. She probably turned that charm on for people of all genders. Connor used to assume every female-appearing service worker was flirting with him when it was nothing of the kind.

I had to be better than Connor.

Read anything good lately? James asked me while I waited for my drink and the one I was taking back to Larison. Nearly every day we worked together one of us went out and got treats or coffee or something for the other.

James had no idea the door she’d opened with that seemingly simple question.

How much time and/or money do you have? I asked, half-joking and half-serious. I was capable of just recommending three books and then if given enough leeway, I could probably go for hours if not days. I had lists on lists on lists on spreadsheets of books. Yes, it was my job, but it was also my passion to find a book for every reader, from a bibliophile to the most reluctant reader. It was a calling, a joy, a mission.

Oh, did I start something with that question? She asked, and I couldn’t help but smile as I sipped my vanilla and toasted marshmallow ice coffee.

Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you. What kind of book are you looking for? What books have you read that you want to read something similar? Or, if you don’t know, what are the tropes or vibes you want?

That wasn’t too intense. I could keep it to a couple of recs. Possibly.

I had to go back to work, so I couldn’t really dig into James’s answers until after we closed the shop for the day, and I was home making a quick dinner of teriyaki beef, broccoli, and rice.

That’s a lot of questions. Okay. So I think I want a few different things. I’m looking for a super cozy sweet romance. Maybe with some fantasy elements? Something that I can escape with. And then on the other hand I want to read something super messed up. Envelope-pushing. That doesn’t have to be a romance, but I wouldn’t be mad about it. How about we start there?

That was a ton of information and I could absolutely work with that. Some people would ask me if I could recommend a book and they’d tell me they just wanted something happy with kissing in it. I’d press and sometimes get a few more details, but it wasn’t until I started handing them books and they read the blurbs on the back where I could figure out what they really wanted. It was an art as well as a science.

With that information from James, I grabbed my rice from the rice cooker and topped it with the broccoli, beef, lots of sauce, and a sprinkle of sesame seeds. The plate of food steamed invitingly, and I was starving.

But as I grabbed my chopsticks, I also pulled up my master spreadsheet of books and started scrolling through, looking for a book for her first request of something light and escapist and maybe fantasy. I had a standard choice, but James impressed me as someone who had probably already read that one. It was an entry-level book. I needed to look a little deeper. Find a hidden gem. Something unexpected.

My food started getting cold as I threw myself into the hunt for the right book. I scanned the spreadsheet and my own shelves before selecting a title that I really thought would be perfect. I’d gotten totally swept up in it. Oops. Doing my job off the clock.

I shoveled the rest of my now-lukewarm dinner into my mouth so I could look for a selection for her second request.