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“I’m sorry,” Serena hisses down the phone. “What do you mean you can’t make it? You’re telling me this now with, what... 12 hours notice?”
Bernie is trying her best not to listen to Serena’s increasingly irate conversation, but she can’t help glance at her across their desks. She’s frowning, and playing with her necklace- never a good sign. Serena catches her eye and mouths a ‘sorry’ at her, but Bernie just shakes her head to say she doesn’t mind.
Eyes back on her paperwork, Serena finishes the call with a testy “Thanks for nothing,” and jams the handset back onto the cradle.
“Problem?” Asks Bernie, innocently- though clearly there’s something going on.
“You could say that. My decorator has just cancelled. They were supposed to be here for two days painting my dining room. They were going to give me a consultation on colour schemes first, then get the paint. I’d do it myself, but I hate painting, I haven’t chosen a colour, and I have a million other things to do over the weekend.”
Bernie makes what she hopes is a sympathetic face. “Anything I can do to help?”
Serena gives a wry smile. “I don’t know. Can you find me a decorator with design skills who can come and make a start on my dining room tomorrow morning?”
“Ah, well... as a matter of fact....”
“Is this a wind-up, Ms Wolfe? Or are you actually going to tell me you’ve got a mate who’ll give up their weekend to do my decorating?” Serena says, a look of disbelief narrowing her eyes.
“Ha! Not exactly. Um, actually I could do it for you. I did a few courses on interior design and decorating as part of my resettlement from the Army,” Bernie’s next word dies on her lips as she sees Serena’s face.
“You’re kidding me?”
Bernie folds her arms in mock indignation.
“I mean, I was a practising surgeon, so all my medical CPD was up to date. And believe it or not, I had actually thought about studying interior design at uni, until I realised there wasn’t much call for those skills in the army.”
Serena leans back in her chair, incredulous. Bernie blushes as she looks through her fringe at Serena.
“I even used to get a subscription of ‘Homes and Interiors’ sent to me in theatre every month.
Serena arches a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you. But, ah, I would think you’d have better things to be doing on your weekend off.”
“You’d think wrong” says Bernie, with a shrug. “Charlotte’s begged off staying with me this weekend as she wants to spend time with her new boyfriend, so I’m rather at a loose end. I’d be more than happy to help.” Bernie ignores the voice in her head that’s asking why, exactly she doesn’t mind giving up her entire weekend to help Serena.
Steepling her fingers, she fixes Bernie with a stare. “alright. You’re on. But I insist you stay for dinner AND stay the night, so bring your scruffs, and your PJs, Major.”
*****
The next morning, Bernie arrives at Serena’s as agreed. They discuss colour schemes, decor and accessories and then Bernie makes several suggestions based on Serena’s preferences.
At Serena’s insistence, they take her car to B&Q. “We won’t fit everything we need into the boot of your sporty little number!”
Bernie can’t deny she is right about that, so she doesn’t argue.
B&Q is quiet- it’s still early, and they park up and head inside, stopping to grab a trolley on the way in.
Bernie can’t help but feel wistful at their outing. It’s the sort of thing she occasionally imagines she and Serena doing together as a couple- mundane, everyday tasks like choosing paint being part of their life together.
Of course, Bernie imagines other things too. Serena is utterly gorgeous after all. But this is not the time nor the place replay some of her more explicit fantasies about her very straight best friend. She needs to push those aside and focus on the task in hand.
Serena, for her part can’t help but stare at Bernie as she reaches to grab tins of paint from a high shelf. Her soft grey jumper and white shirt ride up to reveal a strip of bare skin, pale and smooth, and Serena longs to reach out and touch Bernie.
A familiar thrill runs through her, one she’s felt often over the last couple of months since she realised she had feelings for her best friend. ‘What a cliche,’ she thinks. What makes it even worse is that she knows nothing will ever come of it. She’s seen Alex Dawson, who is physically Serena’s opposite. There is no way, in a world of Alexes that Bernie would settle for Serena.
They traipse around the rest of B&Q companionably, chatting about nothing of importance, and picking up the other things Bernie will need. Rollers, brushes, dust sheets. The trolley fills up, and once Bernie is confident they’ve found everything, they move to the checkout.
Serena orders Bernie to bag everything and put it back in the trolley while she pays to stop her getting underfoot, like an over enthusiastic-puppy.
“Aye aye, Fraulein,” grins Bernie, throwing Serena a lazy salute.
Serena rolls her eyes and shoves the now empty trolley towards Bernie.
As Serena is paying, the woman behind the checkout says how nice it is to see a couple enjoying themselves- so many people seems to have arguments here.
“Oh we’re not..” starts Serena, motioning between herself and Bernie.
“We’re not together,” volunteers Bernie.
The woman on the checkout apologises, profusely.
Both of them wish the other knew how their hearts had fluttered with excitement at the idea of being a couple, the picture of domestic bliss.
*****
Back at Serena’s they unload the car. Bernie brings her weekend bag in, and Serena directs her to the guest bedroom. Changing out of her skinny jeans, Bernie puts on an old vest top and some dungarees that she keeps for exactly this purpose (not that there’s been much decorating happening in her new rented flat), and she ties her hair back off her face as best she can.
Serena is boiling the kettle as she hears Bernie canter down the stairs. She looks up, poised to ask Bernie if she’d like tea or coffee but is suddenly unable to find her voice. Bernie is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, sunlight catching the blonde curls that don’t quite reach her ponytail. She is a vision of carefree beauty, her face relaxed and happy, and Serena feels desire tightening in the pit of her stomach.
“Coffee, or tea?” Serena manages to choke out, hating the way her voice sounds, high and tight.
“Oh, coffee please,” Bernie responds with a smile that Serena can’t help but return.
Bernie leans on the door frame and watches Serena as she turns to make the hot drinks. She takes in the dip of Serena’s waist, the curves of her hip, and she is only able to tear her eyes away when the other woman picks up two mugs of coffee and begins to turn.
“Thanks. Smells good,” Bernie says, her voice huskier than usual. “Do you, uh, have everything that you need from the dining room? I should get on, as we will need at least two coats and then we’ll see how things are looking in the morning- I can do any touch ups then.”
Serena nods. “Yes- and Jason will be home tomorrow afternoon, so we’d better have everything squared away by then.” She winks to show Bernie she’s joking. “I will be out for most of the day- I have a few things to do, but there’s everything you need for lunch in the fridge, so help yourself. I’ll let you know when I’m heading out.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for the coffee- I’ll be in the dining room if you need me,” Bernie returns, grin lighting up her face.
Bernie leaves the kitchen, raising her mug in a mock-toast, and Serena drags her gaze over the back of the blonde’s neck, exposed where her ponytail has lifted her hair away. Eyes wide with want sweep further down, noting toned shoulders, strong arms, and those long, long legs. She stands for a moment or two after Bernie has disappeared from her field of view. It’s going to be a long day if she doesn’t stop mooning over Bernie, she tells herself. Best to get on with all the things she needs to do and push this unrequited attraction to the back of her mind.
*****
Half an hour later, as Bernie is finishing the preparatory work of taping the corners and prepping her kit, she is startled by Serena’s voice.
“I’m heading out now- I think I will probably be back about 5 or so. Do you need anything?”
“No. No thanks,” stutters Bernie, heart still racing from the interruption. She puts a hand up to her throat, fingers absently tracing her collarbone.
Serena has to suppress the urge to lick her lips at the thought of running her own fingers along Bernies, collarbone, but she notices a delicate pink blooming on the other woman’s cheeks.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, fine!” The blonde laughs softly. “You gave me fright is all. Aren’t you usually the one telling me to wear louder shoes?”
Serena matches Bernie’s smile. “Right, well, don’t forget to have lunch, please help yourself to anything. I’ll start making dinner once I’m back, we can eat about 8 if that works?”
“Yep. Sounds good to me. I’ll see you later.”
With that, Serena is gone, Bernie hearing the sounds of the front door, and her car crunching down the gravel driveway. Suddenly the silence in the house feels heavy, and Bernie once again imagines what it would feel like if she and Serena were together, that this was a regular sort of weekend. Happiness rises up in her chest and on her own in the house, she decides to let her imagination run wild as she begins to paint.
*****
True to her word, Serena arrives back at three minutes after five. Bernie has been lost in her work all day, approaching it with the same precision she brings to surgery. She’s brought back to the real world by the sound of Serena opening the front door. Bernie takes a moment to step back and look at the work she’s accomplished. She feels pleased with what she’s done so far.
Serena stops in the kitchen first to deposit the shopping she’s bought on the kitchen table. Next, through to the dining room to see Bernie’s work. Bernie is standing in the middle of the dining room with a grin on her face. “Welcome home. What do you think?” She gestures to the walls with her paintbrush.
For the second time that day, Serena finds herself unable to form words. Bernie has done an amazing job- a rich, dark grey coats the walls, and a complementary off-white is on the woodwork. The colour choices were just what Serena was hoping for- chic with a splash of the dramatic. She can’t fault the quality of the work either, her friend has done an incredible job.
“Bernie! This... this is unbelievable. It looks so good- even better than I’d hoped for! You must be tired though, why don’t you come through and have a glass of wine?”
Bernie basks in the glow of Serena’s delight, it warms her from within. “I’m pleased that you like it.”
“Oh Bernie, I more than like it! Come on, wine awaits!”
With that, Serena grabs Bernies hand to lead her to the kitchen. The touch is electric, and Bernie lets out a breathless “Oh” as she follows Serena.
They are still holding hands when they enter the kitchen, making hesitant eye contact and exchanging shy smiles. There is an almost perceptible shift in the atmosphere of the room, and Serena watches intently as Bernie bites her lip.
“Serena... I... it’s just...” she pauses and sighs, dropping Serena’s hand.
“Yes?”
Bernie hesitates, fighting an internal battle. For a moment she felt as though Serena might, just might feel the same way about her. Surely she too, felt the connection as they were holding hands? Or is this just wishful thinking.
“Wine is great. Could I get a soft drink too?” Bernie asks, internally kicking herself at her cowardice.
Serena passes her a can of Pepsi. She pours two large glasses of red wine and passes one to Bernie. She offers a toast.
“To the very best friend. Thank you for helping me out.”
Bernie knocks her glass against Serena’s, and then gazes intently at the liquid before bringing the glass to her lips. Serena is captivated, finds herself wanting to watch Bernie drink, paint, do anything. Everything about her is fascinating.
Bernie glances up at Serena from beneath her unruly fringe. “I’ll always do whatever I can to help you Serena.”
Serena’s eyes mist up at Bernie’s words. Before she knows what she’s doing, she has taken a step forward and reaches her hand up to cup Bernie’s cheek, running her thumb over the other woman’s cheekbone. Bernie’s eyes widen, and Serena thinks that she’s overstepped a boundary and pulls her hand away as if she’s been scalded.
“You had some paint... on your cheek. Sorry. It’s gone now.” A nervous laugh escapes Serena’s lips, and she takes a half step back.
“Right. Thanks. I probably need a shower. I must look a fright, covered in paint and wearing my old dungarees.”
“You look beautiful, Bernie.” Serena’s voice cracks on her friend’s name, her voice now little more than a whisper. “You always do, you know.”
Serena thinks she’s beautiful, and Bernie doesn’t quite know what to do with that.
“What? You think... you think I’m beautiful?” She stutters.
Serena smiles. “Of course I do. Look at you, you’re exquisite. Tall, blonde, athletic. What’s not to love?” The smile drops as she realises what she’s said and she blushes furiously.
Bernie, for her part, says nothing immediately but moves closer to Serena, forcing her to take a couple of steps back. When the brunette’s back hits the kitchen cabinets, Bernie crowds her against them, her breath hot on Serena’s cheek as they are as close as it is possible to be without touching.
“Say that again. Repeat what you just said, Serena.” Her voice is quiet, pleading. If Serena really feels that way about her, and this spark truly isn’t one-sided as Bernie feared, she thinks things might be alright after all.
Serena tips her head back with a gentle thud against the cabinet so she can look Bernie in the eye. She sees heat in Bernies eyes, and feels that same heat running through her, gathering between her legs.
“I said,” she husks, “what’s not to love?”
A grin spreads slowly across Bernie’s face, and joyous at Serena’s declaration she closes the distance between them, bodies pressing together for the first time. Reaching up to run fingers through greying hair, Bernie whispers in her ear “There’s no-one on this earth who could hold a candle to you. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Serena.”
Serena shudders as Bernie says her name. She can hear the desire running through the other woman’s words, but before she can say or think anything else, Bernie’s lips are on hers, hot and insistent.
Serena moans as they make contact, and she brings her hand to Bernie’s collarbones just as she had been daydreaming about earlier. Bernie’s skin is soft, and warm, and Serena is suddenly overcome with a need to touch and see and taste every part of her.
She pulls back. Bernie looks concerned.
“Sorry, Serena. Too much...?”
“No, no. It’s... it’s perfect Bernie. But I don’t want our first time to be on the kitchen table. Not when I’ve been fantasising about it for months.”
Bernie’s face slackens at the thought that she is about to have a first time with Serena Campbell, her best friend, and the person she’s been pining for, right now; the same Serena Campbell who has just admitted to wanting Bernie for months.
“Come on soldier,” Serena takes the straps of Bernie’s dungarees in her hands and pulls the other woman towards her sharply, giving her another kiss that leaves them both breathless and panting. Serena touches her forehead to Bernie’s, closes her eyes for a moment trying memorise everything she’s feeling. She looks at Bernie and sees a reflection of her own desires in those dark eyes and only then is she able to speak.
“I am going to take you upstairs to my bed and I am going to learn everything there is to know about you, Berenice.”
Bernie can only nod at that. She doesn’t think there’s anything that Serena could ask her to do that she would refuse at this moment.
Bernie takes Serena’s hand, gives it a squeeze. “Let's not wait any longer Serena. I don’t think I can bear to.”