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“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m not. You’re literally doing everything, Tara.”
“The fact that you just used the word ‘literally’ lets me know that–”
He grins at her and Tara stops immediately. Nick is messing with her. Of course he is. His eyes have that little twinkle in them that she thought she liked back when they were thirteen – and she did – just, she didn’t want to keep kissing him. Once was more than enough. Plus, a couple of years later, Nick met Charlie and they’ve been... well not insufferable, so much as: over the top? Frighteningly eager? Ridiculously adorable? All of those come to mind as descriptors. Tara distinctly doesn’t use: horny as fuck, at it like bunnies, or all but fucking in the corridors. Even though they so are.
Or, maybe they’re not. But Tara does not want to know the details.
“Just think about it,” Nick says. “Charlie knows the owner. It was a Head Boy thing where he got to talk to lots of local shop owners and ask what sorts of community service they’d appreciate, how they might like to partner with the school, things like that. He said he really wanted to hire a local student to work there.”
“But it’s called Love. Sweets. Magic.”
Nick snorts. “Yeah, I thought that was clever, sort of suggestive, but still PG rated if you don’t know the song.”
“Nick, I’m trying to balance Oxbridge prep with dance and orchestra and being a prefect. I don’t know how I’d fit a job in.”
“First of all, you know Oxford and Cambridge like to see well rounded students. And second, it’s only one shift after school and then Sundays. You just...” Nick looks at her with that honest, clear expression that she hates. Except she doesn’t hate it, because Tara knows how much Nick cares about her. She loves him just as much. Just not to kiss. Ewww.
“You just need something light in your life,” he says. “Everything for you is so serious – and Tara, you’re so smart, I get it. I just worry that you aren’t ever getting to laugh, to let your hair down, so to speak.”
Tara looks at the flyer Nick has handed her, listing the job responsibilities and expectations at the sweet shop. “Do you think I’d have to wear an embarrassing hat?”
Charlie walks into the library and plops down next to Nick, moaning and dropping his head on Nick’s shoulder. Nick immediately wraps his arm around him and Charlie sighs contentedly.
Nick presses his lips to Charlie’s forehead and then looks back at Tara. “Why does head attire matter?”
“Head attire is very important,” Charlie mumbles from Nick’s shoulder. “It’s a matter of whether your hair is going to be messed up for the rest of the day or not when you take it off. And with Tara’s hair, it can mess with her style and just be a general nuisance. Not to mention most caps aren’t designed to work with black hairstyles. It’s quite problematic, actually.”
Tara points at Charlie. “Got it in one, Head Boy.”
While Tara looks at her homework, she keeps pulling out the flyer. Over and over again.
Dammit. Of course she needs to apply for this stupid job. Even her mum will be pleased. Plus, it’ll look good on her UCAS application.
Of course she applies. And of course she gets the job. Because that’s what Tara does. She gets the things she applies for.
Tara’s first day at work is an unmitigated disaster. Well, by her standards. She’s supposed to manage the till, which she’s actually quite good at. It’s the remembering the names of the different sweets, plus answering what they’re made of, what’s inside them (they quite literally have the ingredients printed below and Tara has very little patience for people that want her to do the work for them), plus one man’s ridiculous question about wanting to impress his girlfriend so he wants to get her something romantic and what does Tara think she’d like. Then he leers at her, which would be so creepy anyway if he hadn’t literally just said he had a girlfriend. Tara hopes his girlfriend knows what a knob he is. Gross.
Tara and Nick have been friends since they were six. Nick joined Tara’s ballet class. He loved it and was the only boy at the time. All the other girls in the class were sort of cross with him for throwing off their balance, and the fact that the teacher swooned over him. It was rare to have a boy in ballet class, so he kept getting the interesting things to do in their dances.
Nick loved it, he loved pleasing Madame Laurent and he never seemed to notice that the other girls didn’t like him. Tara remembers feeling sorry that no one ever talked to him, so she went to talk to him one day. He was so nice.
“My mum says that dance helps you learn your body really well. I also play rugby so maybe I can get better, too.”
Their connection was immediate. Their mums start arranging playdates and carpool to dance class. He called her “T” and she called him “Nicky.” Ever since, they’re the only ones allowed to call each other that.
The best thing about Nick? He was – still is – the only person Tara can fully be herself with. Everything in her family is so serious. Her older brother has been talking about becoming a doctor since he was tiny and her older sister has been crafting law arguments since she was a toddler.
With Tara’s interest in dance, her parents threw all their parental-Tara energy into dance. It’s like their parenting style is: once a child hints at an interest, it becomes their defining characteristic and the way Tara’s entire family relate to and take care of each other.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. George and Hannah Jones are loving, supportive, normal-ish parents. They’re just sort of intense.
Like all the time.
Being at Nick’s house is a breath of fresh air. At least when David’s not there. He’s kind of a knob; always has been. But Tara and Nick spend so much time together, people have started asking them if they’re siblings.
It makes them laugh so much that they end up falling over themselves on Nick’s big bed.
The best part? Nick reminds Tara of her grandfather. He was always whispering jokes to her, making silly faces, telling absurd stories. Grandpa was the first person baby Tara would go to, apart from her parents, and their bond has always been a special one.
Nick always makes Tara laugh in the middle of class, and they don’t get in trouble so much as get the evil eyebrow from Madame Laurent and get moved to different spots in the studio.
Eventually Tara works out everything she needs to know at the sweet shop, because that’s who she is. When there’s something to learn, she’s always on top of it. It took her one late night to memorise all of the sweets, their ingredients, and what they pair well with.
The following week, she went a step further and figured it would be clever to create pre-made boxes of some of the fancier truffles. She figures Archie – the shop owner – can charge more, because they’re curated and could be boxed all fancy and Tara can write up little paragraphs about what they’d be good for.
He’s over the bloody moon about it, gets them ready in another week and they sell out immediately. He gives her an immediate pay raise and Tara thinks... well, that’s more good stuff for my UCAS application sorted then.
Pretty soon, Tuesdays are their busiest days because Tara has another idea to make a more family friendly collection that’s cheaper, but appeals because it’s easy to grab and has a variety of chocolates, classic boiled sweets, and fun flavoured gummies for kids. She also starts piloting her idea of “half price at half four” when everyone is doing the school run. Basically, it’s half off one display of sweets (any that don’t typically sell really well) until five o’clock.
It works so well that Archie gives her another pay rise and promises that she can work at the shop for the absolute rest of her life if she wants. Tara’s not really sure she wants that, but... it’s flattering that he really seems to like her ideas.
At school, Tara doesn’t talk to many people. She’s got Elle, of course, and Sahar. They sort of round out her school friend group. Of course, she and Nick see each other all the time, which means she sees Charlie a lot, and Tara adores Charlie. He’s smart. He can be both quiet and loud, and he really sees her. Not a lot of people get Tara.
It’s always been like that.
It’s not always perfect at the sweets shop. She gets her share of icky interactions – always male – but maybe it’s good practice for relationships? Tara’s not really sure. Elle is with Tao and he’s amazing, if a little hyper-focused on films and Elle’s art. Nick and Charlie aren’t icky with each other, but Nick and Charlie are sort of #relationshipgoals so Tara’s pretty sure she can’t use them as a realistic model. Her dad is never dismissive or obnoxious to her mum, but it feels like it’s all she sees on the telly, so maybe it is a thing?
A few times now, different customers have asked if her skin tastes like chocolate and Tara hates it. So far, she’s tried to laugh it off with a small smile.
But today, Archie comes out from the back, his entire body absolutely seething.
“What did you say?” he says, his voice measured, but furious.
The customer holds up his hands, repeats that he wonders if her skin tastes as smooth as their almond milk chocolate and if he’s allowed to do a comparison. The lad has a half grin on his face as he repeats it, elbowing one of his mates, but Archie is having none of it.
He absolutely fucking puts the lad in his place, citing colonisation and racism and toxic masculinity. Archie goes off for long enough that a small crowd starts to form, and when he finishes, the entire store applauds.
Tara is overwhelmed and sort of embarrassed by the whole thing, but also... no one has ever stood up for her like that. It makes her think that maybe all boys aren’t like that. Even though Archie is old enough to be her uncle. But still. It feels good that he cares enough about her to stand up for her so brilliantly.
It’s awesome.
When she tries to thank him later, Archie waves her off. He says there’s a lot of wrong out there, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to allow it into his shop, a place of silliness and joy.
Tara really doesn’t know what to say. She’s never had someone be so loudly supportive, well, except for Nick. But she thought that was because Nick is one of her best friends, and Archie is just... her employer.
Maybe there really are genuinely good people in the world.
Miss Maxwell-Utley introduces them to a new student at the end of their maths block, but Tara isn’t really paying attention. She’s really worried about the exam she has coming up in English.
She glances up enough to see someone with long-ish blonde hair, wearing a Higgs uniform, but with trousers, a loosened tie, and one of the shirt flaps untucked. They have the brightest eyes – green maybe? – and when they catch Tara’s eye, they wink at her immediately.
Tara feels a shiver rush down her spine, tingling between her legs and she worries that she’s been sitting in this position long enough that her bum is starting to fall asleep.
She blinks and looks away from the greenish eyes.
On her walk to Love. Sweets. Magic, Tara notices all of the green around her. It’s autumn, so leaves have been changing colours, but for some reason, Tara has always categorised the autumn in red, yellow, orange, or brown, but has never really thought of all the green that still remains.
Green that persists in spite of everything else that’s going on.
Tara’s never really noticed the unbelievable mix of greens that are out there: mossy green, olive, lime like both the dark rind and in the lighter inner flesh, and that’s just from one glance across the park.
When Tara walks into work, she thinks about growth and depth and her musing leads her into long conversations with customers about how sweets are so layered and complex and have so much meaning. By the end of her shift she’s broken a record for the number of sweets sold in one afternoon.
Right before they close for the night, Tara’s settled the till and is sweeping up when she glances out the window and sees something. It looks like the person that showed up in her maths class, but that can’t be right.
Tara shakes her head and goes back to sweeping.
Her brain sometimes. Seriously.
In the girls’ loo, Tara washes her hands, completely zoned out when a voice interrupts her thoughts.
“Hi,” the voice says quietly.
She glances over to see the new student and smiles. “Hi.”
“I’m Darcy. Just moved here from London.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you around. You’re in my maths class.”
“And English.”
“Yeah? I’m–”
“Tara.” Darcy finishes for her. “Yeah, I know you. Prefect, dancer, Oxbridge prep. Apparently you know everything and do everything here. Everyone says that I should go to you if I have questions.”
“Do you have questions?”
“Yeah,” Darcy says. “Why is everyone here so serious? What do you do for fun?”
Fun? It’s never occurred to Tara to do anything like that. That school might be fun. You work hard, get good grades, then you...
Well, she’s not really sure what comes after that. But surely something fun will come after that?
Darcy has a twinkle in their eye and a pin on their lapel that says “they/them” over a colourful scribbling mess. One of the colours is the exact green of Darcy’s eyes and Tara’s really not sure why she notices these things.
“Um, what?”
“What do you all do for fun here?” Darcy repeats with a crooked grin.
“Oh.” Tara can’t think of anything to say. She feels like she can’t stop looking at Darcy’s eyes, like they’re a painting in The British Museum that they’ve all been assigned to write an essay about describing the significance of colour choice and paint strokes and pressure and texture and all of those things. Then she sees Darcy lick their bottom lip and now it shines in the predictably flickering light of the girl’s lavatory and Tara wonders, inexplicably, what Darcy’s lower lip would taste like. Something in her stomach flips and settles and she wonders what it might feel like if Tara touched Darcy’s wet lip with her finger, or maybe if she stepped forward and pressed her lips against–
“I like your pin,” Tara says suddenly, her face heating. She hurries out before the bell rings.
“It’s like... everyone thinks they know who I am now, I dunno.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Tara says to Charlie. They’re all sitting in the lounge at Nick’s having tea and toast (well, Charlie’s only having tea) and talking to avoid starting their piles of homework.
“Do you think it’s like parasocial relationships or something?” Nick asks, and Charlie pokes him in the side and says something like, “your sociology brain at work.”
They’re actually quiet for a moment as they think and finally Tara says, “Maybe? Like it’s not like TikTok or Insta or celebrities or anything. But everyone knows Charlie because he was outed and now he’s Head Boy. You’re the Rugby King, and I’m...”
“You’re a prefect and a dancer and in Oxbridge prep.”
“And everyone thinks I’m just this boring loser that only likes school.”
Nick’s face pulls and Tara loves him for it. He can’t ever hide his feelings. Nick’s the most loving, loyal friend and Tara is so grateful for him. For both of them.
“I mean, just that I’m so serious.”
“Well,” Charlie says thoughtfully, “I think you and I really do present as serious. And then the roles we do at school just add to that, I think. So, like, people see us as these one-dimensional stereotypes. I mean, everyone – even me – thought Nick was straight, just because he plays rugby and looks like that.”
“I thought you liked how I look,” Nick teases, poking Charlie's underarm so he giggles and they struggle a bit and then kiss a few times until Tara kicks Nick’s thigh with her socked foot and says, “Oi! PG rated, please. I don’t need a first class seat for all of your sexual exploits.”
Nick and Charlie both blush to the tips of their hair and Tara looks at them thoughtfully. They’ve never blushed that much. They must actually be doing more sexual things these days. So she leans in.
“Make sure you’re being safe, lads. Condoms prevent unwanted pregnancy and STDs. And don’t forget lube. You can never have too much, from what I hear.”
“Tara!”
She grins to herself.
Both Charlie and Tara are at Nick’s for dinner. Sarah Nelson is in and out so often, but she loves having any of Nick’s friends stay. Tara and Sarah clear the table and Nick and Charlie wash the dishes and then the three of them sit at the table to work on homework.
After forty-five minutes of silent work, Tara has to ask, “When did you know that you wanted to kiss Charlie?”
They both look at her in surprise.
“Well,” Nick says. “I mean, I did have an actual gay crisis after I kissed him for the first time. But I... well, I knew I wanted to kiss him when he, uh, well, when he asked me if I would kiss him. He thought I fancied you, but I told him off for assuming my crush was a ‘she.’”
Tara and Charlie laugh. They all know how Nick and Tara’s single kiss ended.
“So you didn’t know you wanted to kiss him until he kissed you?”
Charlie looks stricken. “No! I asked him first.”
“You definitely asked first,” Nick says, his eyes sort of dreamy and soppy. “And I hadn’t actually thought about kissing you until right then, but as soon as you said it, it felt absolutely right in my gut. Like it was something I was supposed to do.”
Well, that’s definitely an interesting answer, Tara thinks, as she turns back to her homework.
In English class on Thursday, they’re assigned partner projects and given the choice of three Shakespearean plays and several options for the final product. Once they choose the play, the pairs are assigned from there.
After the commotion of all that, Tara looks up to see Darcy in front of her.
“Can I give you my number and we can get together to work on this?”
Tara swallows and nods, handing Darcy her phone. Her stomach flips dangerously when their fingers brush.
Tara must be hungry.
One Saturday afternoon, the unresolved chaotic state of Tara’s bedroom annoys her again. So she decides to do an entire desk clean out instead of starting her part of the English project. In the middle of hour two, Tara regrets the decision, but she’s not one to give up. She has a large pile of recycling, a load of rubbish for the bin, and more scraps of paper than she thought possible to exist.
She pulls out something wedged in the back and laughs to herself when she realises it’s a photograph of her with Nick when they were six years old, wearing absolutely absurd costumes and laughing uproariously.
When Tara and Nick were little, they used to play a game they called Mixed Up Fashion Show. It was mostly silly, but it was their favourite. They had their own language, used to wear trousers on their heads and shirts on their legs. Nick would wear Tara’s skirts as hats and they’d dig into his mum’s frankly monstrous collection of scarves and tie them all over themselves. Sometimes Nick would squeeze into Tara’s ballet leotards, his nipples always peeking out the side. He was so much larger than Tara; even back then.
Nick’s mum had a set of playing cards that she used to rate their fashions, and the best days were when she’d dig out her old polaroid camera and take photos of some of their craziest outfits.
Tara holds the photograph and looks wistfully at the joy in their faces. When was the last time she was that silly? When was the last time she laughed that hard?
She actually can’t remember.
An hour into sitting at the table, Tara realises they haven’t even started talking about their project. That has literally never happened to Tara before. Usually she wants to get everything planned and sorted right away. But their conversation just flows so easily.
“Do you work at Love. Sweets. Magic?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I don’t live far. I think I saw you there one night.”
“Yeah, I work Tuesdays and Sundays.”
“I’ll definitely come by one of those days, then.”
Darcy suggests tea and popcorn, so Tara hauls out the air popper. Darcy suggests sprinkling chocolate chips in the bowl as it pops and it escalates quickly until pretty soon they have an entire popcorn concoction assembly line going: Darcy’s popping the popcorn and pouring sweet syrup over it, then Tara scoops some up into her palms along with hundreds and thousands and mini chocolate chips and then moulds it into slightly oblong spheres, laying them down on parchment to cool.
Darcy is hilarious, and so smart. They’ve started quoting lines of Shakespeare to Tara to see if she can identify them. Darcy calls this game, “Shakespeare or Fakespeare?” and Tara has to guess if it’s a real quote or if Darcy just made it up.
It’s completely preposterous and Tara hasn’t laughed this hard in a long time. Tara’s sister, Lila, is home from uni and comes down the stairs when she smells the popcorn. Tara had forgotten that Lila loves popcorn balls – it’s been ages since they’ve made them. Lila sits down to join their game. Pretty soon they’re all just quoting various lines at each other, mostly pulled up on Lila’s phone, but Darcy still has so many that they can call to mind from memory. It’s impressive, actually.
Doubt that the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.
That one’s from Hamlet and Tara got it right away.
No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.
This one was more obscure, but Lila was able to guess As You Like It after Darcy gave a few strategic hints.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Neither of them knew that one. Darcy had to tell them it’s from Sonnet 116.
I do love nothing in the world so well as you…
Everyone always knows that one. Tara and Lila both shout Much Ado About Nothing at the exact same time.
Later, when Tara’s parents get home, Darcy charms them immediately and agrees to stay for dinner. It’s not until afterwards that Tara and Darcy finally start talking about their project. Darcy has great ideas and Tara is actually looking forward to it. She thinks it’s actually going to be... well, fun for a change instead of just something to get through.
After Darcy packs their backpack, Tara walks them to the door and they’re both still quoting lines at each other. Before Darcy leaves, they take Tara’s hand, kiss her knuckles gently, but with dramatic flair and whispers,
“Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service. That one’s from The Tempest. See you at school.”
Then Darcy disappears instantly and Tara’s mind feels foggy. Sort of new... strange. She doesn’t know how to describe how she’s feeling right now, except that her stomach feels like some fireflies flew in when she wasn’t looking and are practising their nighttime choreography.
On Tuesday, Tara cleans up after half price at half four. It’s always sort of a mess, but Archie is still a big fan, so it’s worth it. They consistently make quite a few sales then. People usually buy something from the rest of the shop, because they’re already there for the sale.
As Tara tidies, she finds a couple of boxes that have been opened and spilled on the tablecloth. They’re still wrapped, but unlabelled. Archie is never bothered with a few stray sweets being mixed up, but Tara hates to waste them. She gets a basket from the back and makes a sign that says, mystery sweets: 3 for £1
This way, at least there’s less waste.
It’s another busy Tuesday night, and when Tara comes up for air, she sees Darcy has walked into the shop. They look at Tara and smile immediately, eyes lighting the way they did that first day in maths.
“This shop is amazing. What do you recommend?”
“It’s actually all pretty good.”
Darcy walks around a bit, letting Tara talk to other customers and when they come back over, Tara tells them that she and Archie are going to make popcorn balls as a limited edition treat during the whole month of December.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I just–” Tara feels her face heat. Sweat pricks under her arms and breasts. “I’d forgotten how fun they are until we made them when you came over. They remind me of joy and silliness and being a kid again.”
“I love that so much,” Darcy says. They have this way of worrying the very inside of their lower lip sometimes. Tara has noticed it several times now, and she doesn’t know what it means, how Darcy is feeling when they do it. But... it always makes Tara’s stomach flip a little, like she wants to step forward, touch Darcy’s lip and say, “it’s okay if you’re nervous. So am I.”
“Mystery sweets, huh?”
“Yeah,” Tara tells her. “A couple of boxes got mixed, so this way we don’t have to bin them.”
Darcy pays for three, then unwraps and tosses all three in their mouth at once. Tara watches, aghast. She absolutely cannot believe Darcy did that. She winces as Darcy chews and then makes a face.
“Those do not taste good together.”
Tara bursts out laughing. “You’re a menace.”
“That might be true. But now you have three fewer to sell.”
As they walk home, they talk more about their project, but the conversation shifts into childhood, into other favourite things. Tara had been surprised when Darcy offered to walk her home, then waited another hour while Tara closed the shop.
It’s not awkward. Darcy always seems genuinely interested and the two of them never run out of things to say. Tara looks forward to seeing Darcy every day at school now, always thinking about new things she and Darcy haven’t yet talked about. It’s the sort of anticipatory joy Tara hasn’t felt since she was little and it was getting close to her birthday.
At her door, they pause for a long moment. The porchlight has burned out, so it’s darker than normal.
Darcy steps forward, and touches Tara’s hairline. “You’re beautiful.”
“You think I’m... really?”
Darcy nods, then leans forward and presses their lips against Tara’s forehead.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”
Then they turn around, and walk away into the night.
Tara can’t sleep. Not at all. Her stomach burns with anticipation, with desire, with indescribable wonder.
Apart from that one kiss with Nick all those years ago, Tara has never wanted to kiss anyone. But now?
Now, all she can think about is kissing Darcy. It had started unintentionally, that time in the girl’s loo at school, where she thought about it. Then it grew quietly, fueled by this autumn of exploration, of new experiences, of what in the fuck am I doing?
Tara lies in bed, her heart beating outside her chest – so far outside that she can see it floating above her – and every heartbeat says: Kiss-them. Kiss-them. Kiss-them.
There’s a tiny light in the corner of Tara’s room, a small ballet slipper nightlight that Nick gave her when she turned eight. It still works, even though it’s started flickering recently. It seems to flicker along with her heartbeat, the message and desire to kiss Darcy but...
How?
Tara’s not kissed anyone since Nick. Years ago. It was strange and uncomfortable and not at all what Tara thought kisses were supposed to be.
But... well, Nick and Charlie really seem to like it. Maybe kissing Darcy will feel right? Or maybe Tara would finally learn what all the fucking fuss is about.
Because, if she’s honest? Yeah, Tara really, really wants to kiss Darcy. Like, a lot.
Nick’s texts have been mildly helpful. Helpful as in he is very enthusiastic about kissing. Mildly because he’s very enthusiastic about kissing Charlie in particular, about kissing people in general, and about Tara finally kissing someone else and stopping her endless teasing about how bad it was kissing Nick.
Maybe it is time for her to kiss someone else and see if Nick is just full of it.
On Sunday, the late afternoon is another sweet shop calamity. This time a few customers forget to watch their children, who get their hands in places they shouldn’t, and succeed in making quite a mess. The kids feel terrible, the parents are at their wits’ end, so Tara is doing many things at once: assuring the parents that it’s okay, finding tissues to dry the tears of the kids that are upset that they ‘messed up Miss Tara’s shop’ and mentally calculating how she can try to fix it without Archie taking too much of a loss on the product.
She looks up to see Darcy watching, with an appreciative smile, and Tara feels her face heat again. She’s unaware of everything else for a second – everything narrowing into this tunnel vision where she and Darcy are the only two people in the room, and then they–
“Miss Tara,” whispers one of the kids loudly. “I think that person likes you.”
Now the sweat pricks on Tara’s hairline, because there’s no way Darcy didn’t hear that.
Because what if they don’t?
“Oooh,” the other child says. “Maybe Miss Tara likes them too!”
This time the parents finally step in appropriately, reminding the children they need to help tidy up, let Miss Tara do her job, and let the teenagers have their own lives without meddling from five year olds.
Tara vaguely hears some arguments like, “but I’m almost six!” and “Devon started it!” But what she sees is Darcy’s smile. That crooked smile that lights their eyes into the greenest, most appreciative light in the fucking universe and Tara is just... lost. She’s frozen. And not like Elsa-let-it-go bullshit frozen, but like legitimately, literarily frozen, like she can’t move her limbs. Paralysed by her own want, but uncertain of what might happen. What if–
Tara is only vaguely aware of the activity around her, vaguely hearing: “c’mon children, time to go!” and muttered “Hush!” and “But I want to–”
When she finally blinks, the store is empty except for a pile of pound coins on the counter, many stained squares from a kitchen roll in the bin, and Darcy, still right there, looking at her, so much closer now.
Tara blinks and looks around.
“Did they go?”
“Yeah, I think they felt really bad, so they left a pile of money over there.” Darcy points, and Tara doesn’t even follow their finger, just reaches out for Darcy’s hand with her own.
It’s calloused and warm, but soft. Tara slots her fingers between Darcy’s and looks up at them. “Is this okay?”
“Definitely.” Darcy beams, the brightest light, even as the sun tries to compete, setting eagerly behind them.
So Tara presses open lips against Darcy’s knuckle, tasting sweet skin and feeling her heart clench with apprehension. Darcy leans in as Tara pulls back and tastes Tara’s knuckle.
“Mmm,” they say. “Exactly as I thought you would taste. Salty and warm and perfect. Just like when we made popcorn at your house.”
Then–
Well, now there’s no excuse. Nothing in the way. No customers, no mess, no sister. No excuse. So Tara looks directly into Darcy’s eyes – jade and desire and harmony – and steps forward, right into their space.
“Is this okay?” She breathes quietly, and Darcy smiles now, softly nodding, stepping forward too.
And then. God, and then–
Well, Darcy’s lips are the softest, the warmest… Kissing them is a sonnet of exploding colours: orange, dusky pink, the brightest and most blinding white. Tara closes her eyes and lets herself get swept into the beautiful brilliance of this beautiful person in front of her. This person who brought silliness, joy, and fun back into Tara’s life. Things she didn’t know she was missing – that she could have again – until Darcy appeared like a miracle in trousers.
Tara presses back against the slip-sigh-slide of Darcy’s lips and their tongue and their contented sighs. She feels Darcy’s hands on her waist, on her neck, and she presses forward again into liquid joy.
“You’re amazing,” she whispers and Darcy laughs.
“You’re amazing.”
They press back against each other, kissing and giggling. Darcy is the most delicious flavour in the entirety of the sweet shop. Tara grins to herself, then presses back and back into Darcy’s soft lips.
Yeah, Tara thinks, as Darcy kisses her thoroughly, it’s entirely possible that Nick knows exactly what he’s talking about.