Chapter Text
The air smelled like cut grass and cheap soap.
Natalie had been sitting on the front steps of her trailer for the last fifteen minutes, flicking the edge of her lighter open and shut, open and shut. Her cigarette had long since burned out, but she hadn’t moved to light another. The sun was still dragging its heels on the horizon, and everything around her felt sticky with heat and expectation.
She wasn’t used to this—waiting.
Especially not like this. Hair brushed. Clean shirt. Boots only marginally scuffed. She even put on deodorant. Twice.
The whole thing made her feel like a stranger in her own skin.
The gravel crunched.
Natalie looked up.
There she was.
Misty Quigley, standing awkwardly at the edge of the lot, holding a paper bag in one hand and wearing a skirt that brushed the top of her knees. Her curls were tamed but still recognizable, and her glasses caught the last of the sunlight.
She smiled, uncertain. “Hi.”
Natalie stood slowly. “You found it.”
“MapQuest,” Misty said brightly. “Well, and also a little trial and error. You didn’t say the front door was mostly duct tape.”
Natalie winced. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Misty took a hesitant step forward. “Is it weird that I’m here?”
Natalie shook her head. “No. I mean, yeah. But in a good way.”
They stood there for a second. The air heavy and buzzing.
“You wanna sit?” Natalie asked, jerking her chin toward the patchy grass just off the stoop.
“I brought snacks,” Misty offered, lifting the bag.
They walked over and dropped down into the grass. It was slightly damp, and Natalie pulled her legs up, resting her elbows on her knees.
Misty spread out a folded napkin like it was a picnic blanket. Inside the bag: two cans of cherry soda, a small pack of Twizzlers, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles.
“Gourmet,” Natalie said, trying not to smile.
“You’re welcome,” Misty said, mock-proud. “You seemed like a grape jelly person.”
Natalie took one of the sandwiches and bit into it. “You’re not wrong.”
They chewed in silence for a few minutes. Crickets started up in the distance. The light faded. Somewhere down the road, a dog barked once and fell quiet again.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Misty said after a while, her voice softer now. “I know this probably wasn’t easy.”
Natalie looked at her. “No, it wasn’t. But it felt right.”
Misty nodded, brushing a crumb from her skirt. “You always act like you’re not scared of anything. Like you’ve seen worse. And maybe you have. But today, I… I don’t know. It means a lot. That you let me see this part of you.”
Natalie picked at the hem of her shirt. “I didn’t want to. Not at first. This place… it’s not exactly date material.”
“Neither am I,” Misty said quickly.
Natalie paused. “You are to me.” The words came out before she could overthink them. She smiled, small but real.
Misty blinked, her breath catching just slightly. “You don’t know what that means to me,” she said, voice low. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap, but she was smiling too—shy and stunned.
She then grabbed a soda and cracked it open. It fizzed violently, spilling down her fingers.
“Jesus,” she muttered, shaking her hand.
Natalie laughed and handed her a napkin. Their fingers brushed. Misty didn’t pull away.
Natalie smiled.
Misty leaned in slightly. Her shoulder brushed Natalie’s.
“Can I kiss you?” she asked, almost a whisper.
Natalie turned to her. “Yeah. You can.”
The kiss was gentle. Not urgent. Not messy. Just warm and sure and full of everything they hadn’t had the courage to say.
When they broke apart, Misty looked dazed. A little breathless.
Natalie grinned. “Guess I really am your type.”
Misty rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “Careful, or I’ll revoke your swan status.”
They stayed like that until the sky turned indigo and the porch light flickered on behind them.