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Valerie was late for her meeting with Principal Weems. It wasn’t like her, but she felt like she could be excused this one time – that whole mess with the statue inauguration had thrown a wrench into the works of her carefully scheduled afternoon. After all, it took quite long to take soot out of one’s hair.
And Valerie wanted to look nothing but her best for her meetings with Principal Weems – or, as Valerie sometimes called her in the privacy of her own mind, Larissa – for purely professional reasons of course.
Sure. The most professional of white-collar business reasons. Right.
Oh, who was she kidding. She had the most unprofessional of crushes on the tall woman and she knew it well. She had tried all the tricks in her notebook to get over it as quickly as possible. She had worked on self-acceptance, on setting boundaries, she even tried journaling… Everything that she would suggest to one of her patients with an inappropriate and hopeless crush, she tried for herself.
But it didn’t work.
Not only her crush didn’t peter out and die as she had hoped to, but it also went quite in the opposite direction – it grew, like a small sapling sending out shoots and sprouting new leaves until it was like she had a full-sized sequoia tree of love taking place in her chest, strong and sturdy and unbothered by storms.
And there had been storms. Mainly at night, when the house felt big and empty, and there was no craft project that would make her busy enough not to feel lonely. How she had wished for a comforting presence by her side at those time, a long slender hand to wrap around hers, a tall body bowing down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. The storms had brought bitter rain of tears, recriminations against herself and her inability to find someone who loved her back, someone to share her life with, and had eventually rolled off towards the horizon, leaving her heart beaten and hollow, but still aching for Larissa.
It was hopeless and she knew it: she didn’t even know if Principal Weems was into women at all, let alone if she was looking for a partner and if Valerie could even possibly aspire to be a candidate for that role. But it seemed that every warm – but always professional – smile sent her way, every phone call about a problematic student, every meeting with the woman watered and fertilized her crush until it wasn’t a crush anymore, but full-blown love.
She exited her car, heart thrumming in her chest at the mere thought of being face-to-face with that powerful, beautiful, witty woman. She took her time walking the well-known way through the winding corridors of Nevermore to force the blush off her cheeks, to arrange her face into a polite smile, instead of the huge grin her heart wanted her to sport.
The last thing she needed was for something to slip through the cracks of her professional mask, and for Principal Weems to notice. She could imagine how the woman might react, her smile tuning fixed and stony, her eyes pinched as she tried to keep her professionalism while rejecting her. Or maybe she wouldn’t even try to hide her disgust, chasing Valerie out of the room with harsh words, cutting all business ties with her – It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. There was only one reason why an overqualified psychiatrist such as herself had settled in the inconsequential backwater that is Jericho, after all. To escape heartbreak, what else? But that had been many years ago. Her heart had healed – but it had never forgotten.
And now she had gone and done it all over again, falling for a likely straight woman she had professional ties with. Fuck, Valerie. What are all your degrees worth if you keep making the same mistakes over and over again? But no. She wouldn’t be repeating her mistakes if she didn’t allow Larissa to ever know about her feelings.
Strong in her renewed determination, she rapped curtly against the thick wooden door, just beside the bronze plaque reciting “Principal Weems”. She expected the usual firm “Come in” and was surprised when no voice could be heard. Well, that was not entirely correct. She could hear the soft ups and downs of a singing voice and of music. Maybe Principal Weems hadn’t heard her knocking over the music. She was pretty late, the afternoon having already given way to the evening.
For good measure, Valerie knocked again as she turned the doorknob, slightly pushing the door open.
“Principal Weems? It’s V…” she lost all hopes of rational thought at the sight that greeted her.
There was indeed a soft music, originating from the record player in the far corner of the room. All lights were turned off, and the office was only illuminated by the flickering warm light of the fireplace. And in the middle of the room, a vision.
Larissa Weems was barefoot, a glass full of wine held loosely in her hand, her eyes closed as she swayed slowly to the rhythm of the song. The orange light danced on her features, highlighting her beauty, and making her even more breathtaking than she usually was. Valerie’s mouth suddenly went dry and she froze, unable and unwilling to interrupt such a mesmerizing scene.
She shouldn’t have worried, because in that moment the principal’s blue eyes shot open, pinning her to her place halfway through the door, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on something very personal. Valerie felt an apology climb to her lips, but it vanished again when the other woman’s neutral expression opened in a blinding smile. Valerie couldn’t help but stare. If she thought Larissa was beautiful before, that true, unfiltered smile was breathtaking, lighting her whole face from within.
“Valerie! I didn’t think you were coming.” Her own name falling from those perfectly red lips in the low, lilting voice that often made its way in her dreams made her own heart stutter in her ribcage, and the blush she had so valiantly fought to suppress before was already trying to crawl back to her face. This was dangerous.
“Would you like to join me?” The outstretched hand – the one not holding the glass of wine – was compelling in a way that nothing ever had been for Valerie. She stepped towards it, mechanically closing the door behind herself, advancing as if in a dream. Her heart was out of control now, and so was the blush, hopelessly making its way up her neck. She felt herself caring less and less about those things. Larissa didn’t move, she didn’t retract her hand, nor the offer, and Valerie felt her own palm land on the one waiting for it, almost as if it had moved of its own accord. So warm. So right.
So dangerous, keened a small part of her brain, but it went unheeded, as the sweet notes of the song wrapped around her body, as the warm fingers enveloped hers, pulling her closer to Larissa’s body as the taller woman started once again to sway to the music. Oh.
Without her usual heels, Larissa wasn’t as imposing as she usually was – Valerie’s head reached just below the principal’s nose. She was acutely aware of that fact as she was pulled into the other woman’s personal space, closer than she had ever been. Close enough for her perfume to fill her nostrils with longing, and close enough to feel her body heat radiating into the small distance that divided them. If Principal Weems were to lean forward, her lips would meet Valerie’s forehead.
That was a pleasant image.
Larissa didn’t lean forward, but she brought up the hand that was still holding the wine glass and held it close to Valerie’s shoulder blade, almost half-hugging her, keeping her close. As if she wanted to be anywhere else.
“Dance with me, please?”
As if Valerie could deny her now, trapped as she was in the taller woman’s loose embrace, mesmerized by her otherworldly beauty, ravaged by the strength of her own feelings for her. She tried to follow the rhythm of the song and Larissa’s own sways, feeling herself slowly relax as the lyrics rolled over them in dulcet tones, speaking of a love story that could have been theirs. For the duration of that song, Valerie allowed herself to almost believe it. To live in that liminal space where all she could feel and think of was Larissa. No past, no future, no schools, no outcasts and no normies, no principals and psychiatrists. Just Larissa and herself, dancing in the darkened office.
But then the vocals were slowly fading away, leaving only soft instrumental that was bound to disappear as well. Larissa briefly brought the wine glass to her lovely lips and Valerie could only stare, transfixed, as she drained the remaining burgundy liquid, before setting the glass down on a nearby coffee table – detaching her body from Valerie’s for an agonizing moment, but never letting go of her hand – before quickly resuming her place, her now free hand scorching hot on Valerie’s back.
The music had stopped, leaving only the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic tapping of a record that had reached its end. And yet Larissa didn’t seem in any hurry to increase the distance between them. Valerie did the mistake of looking up into her eyes, only to be captured by those inscrutable depths, so dark in the low light of the fire. A flicker of movement caught her attention, and she lowered her gaze just a fraction, watching as Larissa’s tongue came out to wet those lips, lips who had never been so close to Valerie, so within reach. If she were to simply go on her tip toes, she could…
The slight widening of Larissa’s eyes told her that her staring had been for a fraction too long. Valerie dropped her head, trying to hide her now angry red blush, and tried not to give too much weight to the pang of longing that hit her as her own hand was dropped from the other’s grasp, suddenly cold in the evening air. Of course. Of course she had to go and ruin the moment. What else did she expect?
But Larissa’s other hand stayed strong and warm on her back, and the hand that had relinquished Valerie’s own came up to softly curl under her chin, gently nudging it up once again, letting her eyes take in the beautiful features of Larissa’s face.
Larissa, whose eyes were now fastened on Valerie’s own lips with an intensity that had her heart summersault in her ribcage.
“May I kiss you, Valerie?” Larissa’s voice was low, almost hoarse, and it carried the sweet smell of wine. Valerie felt small, wrapped into those warm arms, desperately trying not to let her hopes up. Small and scared, because her heart was singing, and she knew it was too late. And she wasn’t sure she’d be able to withstand the tempest that would come in the morning, when Larissa would look down at her and tell her in her firm, professional voice that it had all been a drunken mistake and surely they could agree not to mention it anymore.
“Will…will you regret it in the morning?” she hated how her voice broke as she asked that. She hated that she couldn’t just enjoy the moment for what it was and allow herself this one kiss she might never get again.
And yet, how could she? How could she kiss those lips she had spent so much time and effort to try and not stare at, to hold close that body that she had admired from afar, and then go back to being polite business acquaintances? She wasn’t thirty anymore. This time it would break her for real, and there would be no moving cities that would help her heart recover.
“I won’t, unless you do.”
“And will you remember it?”
Larissa had the nerve to chuckle at that, as if Valerie’s concerns were nothing more than a child’s irrational fears. After all, those were born of trauma too.
“You can test my recollection ability tomorrow morning at eight at the Weathervane, on our first of hopefully many coffee dates. Now may I kiss you?”
A date? A date? Valerie’s poor brain had no time to process this, because at that second iteration of that question, whispered barely an inch from her lips, all she could do was dumbly nod and in an eyeblink those soft, pillowy luscious lips were on her own and oh.
Oh.
They felt like paradise.