Work Text:
From the comfort of her home, Cassie watched them. Summer had finally arrived, and the water was warm enough for a swim. With how the waves flowed in from the ocean, empowered by the spring rains, the gulch had nearly flooded, if not for Lucy’s quick thinking. She had cleared paths for the water to venture into various streams leading into the forest, which in turn, had nourished the local flora and fauna, the trees stronger and critters drinking their fill.
But while Cassie penned about the positive changes in the gulch, that was when Ford decided on an impromptu community swim. She was already in the middle of her work, so she declined. A writer couldn’t be distracted with their thoughts focused on their craft. She was sated observing them from her window as Helmut tossed Bob onto Otto, crushing him under a wave. A smirk tugged at her lips when Ford’s camera went off, the timely flash a quick, bright light, and she made a mental note to ask him for a copy.
Her window was wide open to bring in the breeze. It carried the scent of sea salt and brine, contrasting with the sweetness of her honey jars. Clipping her pen behind her ear, she inspected her notebook, her writing lining the pages. Perfect penmanship aside, she was delighted with how she detailed the various happenings the influx of water had on the gulch. She was certain her friends would be, too, but there was still much more detail to be added, such as how she witnessed the beavers building a new dam on a river Lucy forged.
As she reached for her pen, a repetitive knock distracted her. Cassie resumed writing, calling for them to enter. The hinges creaked, and the door pushed forward, allowing a brighter stripe of light to cover her carpet. Footsteps pressed onward, coming closer until their presence, their heat, was right next to Cassie.
She sighed, glimpsing at the heavy shadows draping over her. “Lucy, you know I’m busy,” she said, her smile light.
“I know,” Lucy murmured, slipping her hands across Cassie’s shoulders. She hadn’t realized they held tension until Lucy massaged them, her fingers digging into her skin. “And while I already know I’m going to love reading your work, I think it’s in your best interest to come for a swim.”
“I’m writing,” she insisted, still grinning. “I can’t be interrupted. I wouldn’t interrupt you when you’re knitting.”
Lucy stepped to her side, the shapes around her shifting. Fabric rustled, her form changing. When she noticed it, Cassie’s pen formed a spreading spot of blue ink for her period. Lifting it, Cassie finally looked at Lucy, and like her jaw, she dropped her pen.
Lucy had tied her shawls around her waist like a makeshift towel. She was without her usual cloak, dressed in a two-piece bathing suit. She must’ve sewn them together, for the fabric had been patched with a variety of small, polyester, aqua squares. The top was snug, the cut proper across her chest, the color as black as night. The bottoms were shorts with little yellow stars embroidered around her hips, and Lucy made a show of leaning into Cassie’s desk, her lips lifting in a mischievous grin.
Cassie’s throat dried. The water in the gulch wouldn’t quench her thirst. Her eyes drifted up and down, taking in Lucy’s tall, sturdy frame, the build of an acrobat who wouldn’t dare miss practice.
Lucy hummed, raising her arm, revealing a hanger she had hidden inside her shawl. On it was a matching two-piece, which she swayed temptingly.
“Dear me,” Lucy said, closing her eyes, “I was hoping we could go out together in these bathing suits I made with all my heart and soul. Well, if you’re busy, there’s always another day, always another sunny afternoon with tepid waters.”
She trailed off, turning away, her sandals quietly hitting the floor. The distance between them was a single footstep when Cassie stood, the chair legs scraping the flooring through the carpet. Cassie already knew what Lucy was entailing, her meaning more than purposeful. And she, like a fish, had nibbled the worm on the hook.
Cassie was dressed in a long, loose, silk emerald green shirt, another interwoven gift from Lucy. The skirt was her own, a checkerboard, pale blue and red pleated cloth that had seen the sun far too often. Fixing the fabric around her shoulders, Cassie pinched the hem of her shirt, rolling it up to her stomach, only to hesitate.
Lucy smiled. She was always seemingly aware of the subtle shifts in the tide and people. Setting the hanger in Cassie’s hands, she offered Cassie her privacy. She cupped her palm, stroking her thumb along Cassie’s, then departed, her touch sending shivers up Cassie’s spine that only the water would cure.
As she changed, folding her clothing and donning the stretchy, comfortable two-piece, Lucy waited as promised. Cassie found her shadow along the window spilling into her room. It was a towering, powerful figure, one that made Cassie want to write countless stories.
Tearing her eyes away from Lucy, she found the swimsuit to her liking. The spandex was breathable, the polyester downy. It fit her perfectly, her measurements exact, the straps secure around her shoulders. And as she stood in front of her mirror, she twirled around on her heels, allured by the call of the sea when her voice broke through her thoughts.
“Ah, you look beautiful!”
Lucy sashayed inside with a skip to her step. She clasped her hands, pressing into Cassie, whose breath caught in her throat. Their gazes met, Lucy’s eyes every hue of the ocean. She reached up, threading her fingers through Cassie’s full hair, holding her steady like a wave coming to the shore.
“I knew you’d be.” Lucy’s smile was so wide she showed off her gums. “I just knew you’d be.”
The repetition was earnest, unable to be contained. Lucy brought her close, their foreheads touching. Cassie held her waist, her skin always cool, as if Lucy would vanish should she release. And although the sea was never meant to be contained, in that instant, Lucy was hers, and Cassie closed her eyes, drinking Lucy in when their lips met.