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Nelle is wearing a silk dress that goes down to her ankles, some boots Andrea bought her a few months ago, and a crocheted sweater that had many holes in it. Nelle looks in the mirror, at the way the dress she’s wearing shows off her curves more than something else she’d go for. Her curly orange hair is styled nicely, and a single necklace sits in the center of her chest. She doesn’t look bad, but she doesn’t know how she feels about it. It’s not anything near what she was allowed to wear on the run.
She has to remind herself that she’s not on the run anymore as she sprays some perfume Nichole bought her—it’s vanilla scented. It reminds Nelle of Andrea, though she’d never admit it out loud.
Her phone chimes with a text message and she pulls it out to find a message from Andrea: here.
She shoots off a message saying she’ll be down in a minute and checks the mirror one last time before applying some “must have” lip gloss that Nichole left at her house. It smells like strawberries and makes her lips shine almost satisfyingly. Her heart starts to pound slightly harder as she looks away from the mirror, making her way to the door. She grabs her purse and makes her way down the three flights of stairs to find Andrea’s car pulled in front of the apartment complex. She lets herself in the passenger seat, and her gaze is immediately drawn to Andrea’s legs.
She’s wearing black skinny jeans with rips along the thighs and knees, a pair of fishnets on underneath them. Her gaze slowly drifts up to her chest, where she’s wearing a long sleeve lace shirt that’s entirely see-through. The only thing covering her chest is a black bra underneath that leave’s little to the imagination. Nelle’s mouth waters slightly as she lifts her eyes to meet Andrea’s. “Staring,” Andrea says. Her eyes are lined with eyeliner, mascara, and a bit of smokey eyeshadow.
Nelle smiles slightly and firmly keeps her eyes pointed out the window while Andrea drives to wherever she’s taking Nelle.
A few songs play on the radio, none that Nelle is familiar with, before they pull into the parking lot of a restaurant. Once the car turns off, Nelle tasks herself with getting out of the car and not noticing Andrea’s legs, or her chest, or her anything. She walks beside Andrea until they make it inside; the lights are low and welcoming, and it smells like Italian food that makes Nelle’s stomach almost rumble. She hasn’t eaten anything today.
“Do you have a reservation?” The waitress asks, eyes roaming Andrea’s body in a way that makes Nelle’s stomach clench with something she can’t name.
“Yes. Minyard.” Her voice soothes something small in Nelle, and suddenly she has the urge to smile at Andrea, but all she does is hold her gaze. Andrea’s eyebrow raises before turning back to the waitress.
“Oh! I see you two have the roof tonight, that’s a nice, romantic spot,” the waitress says before grabbing two menus and leading them back. One word sticks in Nelle’s mind, though. Romantic. That’s not what this is, she’d know, Andrea would have specified.
Walking through the restaurant, Nelle feels under-dressed somehow, so she doesn’t look at other people, opting to look at Andrea instead.
The roof is warmer than she thought it would be, candles on a table that seats two in the center. Andrea pulls the seat out for Nelle, pushing her in close to the table before sitting down across from her. Her height puts her chest almost directly in Nelle’s line of sight, so before she can start drooling on accident she focuses on the silverware. The waitress leaves them alone after Andrea orders a bottle of wine, and Nelle feels more settled here than she has in a while.
“It’s pretty up here,” Nelle says, looking out past the roof. City lights below and stars above, Nelle felt incredibly small, though not in the way she’s used to feeling. Andrea just hums, pointedly not looking anywhere besides Nelle and the table in front of them. Nelle is then hit with a realization. “Wait, when you said you were afraid of heights, you were joking, right?”
“I didn’t say I was afraid of them,” Andrea says, trying to look bored, though Nelle can see through it immediately.
“Andrea! What were you thinking, reserving a table on the roof?” Andrea just shrugs, and Nelle is filled with a deep sense of irritation. “Okay, then. Just don’t look past me. Keep your eyes on mine.” Surprisingly, Andrea’s eyes flick up to meet Nelle’s, and she feels her cheeks flush slightly. She blames it on the heat in her head, as if she needs to justify anything to herself.
“How’s Sir?” Nelle asks, trying to take Andrea’s mind off the fact that they’re multiple stories in the air right now.
“She needs to learn manners. She woke me up this morning because she could see the bottom of her bowl.” Nelle lets out a soft laugh at that. She’s learned in her many nights of staying over at Andrea’s house that it’s typical Sir behavior to be dramatic when it comes to food. Nelle’s about to say something when the waitress from earlier brings them their wine, filling both their glasses and taking their orders before leaving once more.
Nelle and Andrea trade questions and stories while waiting for their food, and when it finally arrives, it smells so good Nelle can almost taste it before it’s even in front of her. Andrea got some complicated dish that Nelle forgets the name of, and Nelle got risotto.
The meal ends sooner than Nelle would have liked, but it’s worth it to watch Andrea hand the waitress her card, her shirt not doing anything to hide her biceps. Once they’re done paying, Andrea pulls Nelle’s chair out once again, this time for her to get up, and they make their way down the building and through the restaurant. The second time is harder than the first time, the smell of food wrapping it’s way around Nelle, making her feel nauseous. She’s so full, she has to look down at her dress to make sure it’s still in tact and not split in half.
When she finds that, indeed, her dress is still one piece, she lets out a breathless laugh. Andrea looks at her, but otherwise doesn’t comment until they get inside her Maserati. “Yes or no?” Andrea asks, looking at Nelle expectantly. Nelle doesn’t know what Andrea is asking, but it can’t be bad, or else she wouldn’t ask.
“Yes,” she says, and then Andrea’s hand is on her thigh, squeezing. Nelle’s entire body jolts, causing Andrea to take her hand off Nelle’s thigh. She instantly wants that hand back on her thigh. “Still yes, I’m just not used to the feeling.” Andrea nods before settling her hand back on Nelle’s thigh like it’s always belonged there. She only takes her hand off for a split second to put the car into drive, but she puts it right back where it belongs, rubbing her thumb up and down softly. Nelle wills herself to not stare at Andrea’s hand too long, at the way her nails are freshly painted, the veins that shift as her thumb moves. In the end, she settles her own hand on top of Andrea’s, and leans against the door, watching Andrea’s face.
The drive home is shorter than the drive to the restaurant is, and Nelle’s breath hitches when Andrea pulls into an empty guest parking spot in the apartment complex. When she turns the car off, Nelle exits the car and waits for Andrea to round the car, meeting her at the curb. “Tonight was nice, thank you,” Nelle says, and although nice isn’t the right word, she can’t find one strong enough to describe the way it made her feel warm and safe.
Andrea nods, stepping closer to Nelle. For a second, they’re sharing breaths, the already hot air turning even hotter, when Nelle steps back. “I should probably head up, I have to be at the gym early with Kendra tomorrow.” Andrea’s eyes widen for a quarter of a second before she, too, steps back. Her eyes have this closed off look like Nelle did something wrong, only, she doesn’t know what.
Without a word, she gets inside her car and starts it. Nelle watches her drive off, a pit in her stomach telling her to do something. What, she doesn’t know, but she wants to do something. With a sigh, she makes her way up the stairs and lets herself into her apartment. She runs her fingers through her hair and takes the sweater off on the way to the bathroom, tossing it on the floor somewhere between the kitchen and living room. The dress is a struggle to get out of, but in the end she does, turning her shower onto the hottest setting. She zones out the entirety of her shower, trying to figure out what she did wrong to make Andrea leave so abruptly, but she can’t think of anything.
Throwing on some shorts and a sports bra, she climbs into bed and throws herself under the covers, willing herself to sleep.
“So,” Kendra says, eyeing Nelle from the side. Nelle is running on the treadmill at the gym, while Kendra works her arms out.
“So,” Nelle repeats, not in the mood for talking. Surely Kendra knows this, yet here she is, talking to Nelle as if she hasn’t given multiple signs that she does not want to.
“You can’t just not tell me how the date went,” Kendra says, rolling her eyes. Nelle jumps to the side of the treadmill.
“What date?”
“You cannot be serious. What do you mean, what date? What about the one Andrea took you on last night?” Kendra stresses, hands weaving in her hair and pulling. Nelle’s brows pinch together and she feels her lip curl.
“What do you mean? That wasn’t a date.”
“Oh, Nelle. You aren’t stupid. I know you aren’t. Tell me you don’t believe that,” Kendra pleads, turning Nelle’s treadmill off. Nelle wipes sweat off her forehead before returning her gaze to Kendra.
“You’re really starting to sound like Nichole,” Nelle warns, stepping off the equipment and standing in front of Kendra.
“You’re doing this on purpose, I swear. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Nelle doesn’t answer, but Kendra takes that as a yes and plants her hands on Nelle’s shoulders. “Andrea asked you if you wanted to go to dinner, right?” Nelle nods. “She dressed up, did she not?” Another nod.
“You also dressed up, and she took you to dinner, on top of a roof. There were candles. Nelle, that’s a date.” The words slap Nelle in the face.
“A date,” she repeats, trailing off. Kendra nods, exasperated. She shoves a water bottle in Nelle’s hands.
“Yes, Nelle. A date. You went on a date with your girlfriend.” Nelle reels back at that, feeling her eyes widen and her throat tightening, making it hard for words to come out.
“Girlfriend? I would know if Andrea was my girlfriend.”
“How many times has she taken you out to dinner, just the two of you?” Kendra asks as Nelle counts in her head.
“Maybe ten, how is this relevant?” Kendra groans and pushes Nelle’s shoulders until they’re both at the cubbies with their clothes in them.
“You’re dating. Andrea is your girlfriend, and you are Andrea’s girlfriend. That’s how it’s relevant.” At Nelle’s confused look, Kendra shoves her clothes in her hands. “What you’re going to do is go home, shower, and put something nice on. Make sure it shows off your legs; Andrea likes them. Then, what you’re going to do is show up at Andrea’s place with flowers.”
“I don’t know if Andrea is the flowers type of girl,” Nelle starts to say.
“Get her the right kind, and she is. Then, you’re going to give her the flowers, tell her you’re a dumbass, and take her to dinner, this time with the knowledge that it’s a date,” she enunciates the word, like Nelle’s never heard it.
Nelle grabs her things and runs to her apartment, taking the steps in threes until she’s inside. She wants to rush her shower, but she doesn’t, wanting to look presentable. Doing her hair is a task, as she has to put anti-frizz oil, curling cream, and blow dry it with a special attachment that makes Nelle’s arms hate her. When her hair’s done, she finds a pair of black cargo shorts Andrea bought her last week and pairs it with a sage green shirt that’s skin-tight and hangs off one shoulder, showing the lacy strap of a bra. Last second, she decides to throw on some mascara and her converse, and she’s out the door again.
Her skin is buzzing with anticipation and nerves, so she completely skips the step of going to the store and buying flowers, deciding to just make the fifteen minute walk to Andrea’s small flat.
It’s warm out, so by the time she’s face-to-face with the white door, she’s sweating. There’s sweat stains under her pits, and she tries not to grimace at the look of it as she raises her hand to knock on the door. A few seconds later, Andrea answers the door, wearing black sweatpants and an old My Chemical Romance shirt. She’s holding a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Brownie Batter and raises an eyebrow at Nelle’s spontaneous arrival.
“Can I come in?” Andrea steps back, opening the door more for Nelle to step through. When she lifts her arms, Andrea makes a face at the sweat covering Nelle’s shirt. “Believe it or not, I showered and changed before I came here.”
“Why did you come?” She asks, eyes lingering on Nelle’s legs long enough to notice. Nelle’s heart does a swoop at the fact, but she doesn’t focus on it. She has a task to do.
“Are you my girlfriend?” She blurts out, a lot less thought through than she wanted it to sound. She face-palms and sighs, already accepting the fact that she’s fucked this up.
Andrea freezes, spoon half way to her mouth. “What?”
“Yesterday, it was a date, right? You’ve taken me out on what, eleven dates now?” Andrea carefully doesn’t react, setting her ice cream down on the table. “Kendra told me that what we did was a date, and that I’m being a dumbass. Are you my girlfriend?” She’s panting by the time she’s done talking, and it surely doesn’t look pretty paired with the sweat on her shirt, but she doesn’t care, and she knows Andrea doesn’t either or else she would have said something.
“You said yes,” Andrea says slowly, thoughtfully. Images of her hand resting on Nelle’s thigh rush to her mind, and she feels her cheeks heat up.
“To what?”
“Dating,” she says, as if that explains everything. When she realizes Nelle doesn’t remember, she sighs and sits down on the table. “We were sitting on my car, watching the stars. I asked yes or no. You asked what I meant, and I said: continuing this. You said yes.”
Nelle freezes all movement she was doing, bringing her eyes up. “That was you asking me to be your girlfriend?” Andrea shrugs one shoulder, and suddenly Nelle is filled with a strong urge to laugh. “I’m not a mind reader, Andrea. I didn’t know that,” she softens her voice and steps closer, standing in between Andrea’s legs. “Now it’s my turn to ask: Yes or no?”
Andrea barely gets a yes out before Nelle is pushing forward, capturing Andrea’s lips with her own. She’s never kissed anybody before, not like this. Andrea’s hands settle on Nelle’s waist and pull her closer, and Nelle tips her head to the side softly before pulling back. “Can I touch?”
“Just here,” Andrea says, grabbing Nelle’s arms and slinging them over her shoulder. Nelle uses that leverage to pull Andrea forward once again, more confident this time, moving her lips feverishly against Andrea’s. She tastes like the ice cream she was just eating, and although Nelle doesn't like sweet things, she doesn't think she'll ever get over this. Andrea’s hands roam up her sides, pausing, and she pulls back enough to say, “You’re disgusting.” Nelle pants into the small space between their lips, taking a second to regain her voice.
“Take it off, then,” Nelle says cheekily, lifting her arms up. Andrea does, leaving Nelle in just her bra and shorts. Andrea’s eyes roam appreciatively before she pulls Nelle in for one more chaste kiss, and hopping off the table and grabbing her ice cream.
Nelle follows her to the couch and grabs the remote to turn on some sports channel, though she doesn’t pay attention to it. There’s a few feet of space between them, and Nelle doesn’t know whether she’s allowed to close it or not, until Andrea gives her a look. “I’m not going to stab you.” Nelle takes that as the invitation it is, and scoots herself as close to Andrea as she can get without touching her.
Andrea sighs, and wraps an arm around Nelle’s shoulder, pulling her as close as their bodies allow. Andrea leans forward once again and leaves Nelle breathless, and she’s met with the realization that she likes kissing Andrea very much. “You’re saying I could have been kissing you this entire time?”
“You’re an idiot,” Andrea says, but the way she settles her arm around Nelle’s waist pulling her closer says otherwise.