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Michaela is happily lounging on the sofa, endlessly scrolling instagram reels, when her phone is suddenly ripped from her hands.
She whips her head around to look at the culprit. “What the fuck, Francesca?”
Francesca only smiles sweetly, gently depositing the phone on a table on the other side of the room before sitting down next to Michaela.
“Hiya Mic. I only wanted your attention.”
After ten years of friendship, and two years of living together, Michaela thought she’d be used to Francesca’s stubbornness by this point, but she still found ways to surprise her.
“You always have my attention.”
Francesca looked unconvinced.
“Sure. But anyway, are you doing anything Saturday night?”
Michaela pretended to think, stroking her chin with a hand dramatically. “Let me think… Hmm I had planned to attempt to watch a film from my watchlist and inevitably rewatch About Time for the billionth time, so I guess I can move that to another night.”
Francesca’s face lit up.
“Amazing! I’ve managed to score a ticket to the Proms and you are my guest.”
Michaela’s face dropped just slightly, and she tried not to act too disappointed.
“The Proms? Isn’t that like a music festival but just for classical music nerds?”
Francesca recoiled and dramatically clutched a hand to her chest. “Excuse me? The Proms is so much more than that! It’s an opportunity to hear the greatest music ever created in one of the worlds best concert venues!”
Michaela watched on fondly as Francesca continued to defend herself. When she eventually had to stop to take a breath, Michaela interrupted.
“I was joking, Fran.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Just- read this.”
Francesca ducked her head to hide her burning red cheeks, and reached into her pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece over paper which she handed to Michaela. She unfolded it and began to read the title.
“The Planets by Holst? Fran, you know this means nothing to me.”
Francesca gaped. “Holst means nothing to you? In the bleak midwinter? Mars? Jupiter?”
Michaela only gave her a blank look, and Francesca sighed.
“Just keep reading then.”
Michaela continued, and paused.
“With a suite of music from Star Wars. Seriously?”
Francesca smiled. “Someone here forced me to watch all nine films in one week, and I thought that someone might enjoy coming with me, perhaps.”
Michaela lightly touched Francesca’s arm, and grinned. “I’d love to.”
“So, judging by your reaction, you’ve never listened to the Planets Suite before?”
“Uh, no. Should I have?”
“Well, of course!”
Michaela stands up and makes her way over to her phone, trying to find spotify.
“Mic, what are you doing?”
“Listening to the Planets?”
Francesca darts over and snatches her phone from her hands. Again.
“Hey! What did I do?”
“I just think it’d be way cooler if your first time ever hearing it is with a live orchestra. Trust me.”
Michaela bent into an exaggerated bow. “As you wish, my lady.”
Francesca rolled her eyes. “But there are rules to attending a classical concert.”
Michaela should’ve known. If there was one thing Francesca Bridgerton loved more than music, it was rules.
“Rule number one,” Francesca explained, “is the dress code. Normally, you could wear anything that was at least smart-casual. But this is the Proms, and this is the Royal Albert Hall. So we have to be smart.”
Michaela raised an eyebrow. “How smart are we talking?”
“Nothing too extravagant, it's not a wedding or anything. But for the love of god do not wear jeans.”
“And what if I do?”
“Don’t even joke. I’d simply have no option but to leave you outside and go in by myself.”
Michaela mock-gasped, clasping one hand to her chest. “You wouldn’t.”
Francesca grinned, a teasing glint in her eyes. “As much as I love you, Mic, I would.”
A few nights later, Francesca hovered by the kitchen island, waiting for Michaela to finish getting ready. She fidgeted with her jacket sleeve. She had opted for a white shirt with smart grey trousers and a light blue suit jacket. It was a warm August night, but she looked a little ridiculous without the coat, so her only option was to suffer the heat. At the sound of a doorknob clicking, Francesca looked up and felt her mouth go dry.
Michaela was dressed head to toe in red. Red jewellery, red shoes, and a red dress. The dress was a perfectly reasonable length, but the neckline did not leave much to the imagination. She did a little twirl, and cocked her head to one side.
“So, what do you think? Have I made it past rule one?”
“The dress is…” Sinful, Francesca’s mind helpfully supplied. Her eyes flitted all over Michaela’s figure, desperately trying not to linger on the neckline. “It’s, well, it’s suitable.”
Michaela seemed to take pleasure in her torture, and pouted. “Only suitable?”
“I- um, well, you look…”
Francesca embarrassingly could barely get a word out. She could only watch, stuck still to the ground as Michaela walked closer to her. Agonisingly slow, she leaned in, so close that Francesca could feel her breath on her lips.
Michaela spoke in a low voice, a tone that Francesca had never heard before. “You look a little… uncomfortable.”
She raised her hands up and slowly undid the top two buttons of Francesca's shirt, letting her hands linger on the exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in her wake. Francesca had never felt more alive. Michaela smoothed out the creases on her shirt before finally taking a step back.
“There, you look a little bit… freer, now.”
Francesca could only gulp in response, her heartbeat racing. Michaela’s knowing smirk was absolutely not helping.
“You gonna tell me how I look, now?”
Francesca rolled her eyes, finally snapping out of her Michaela induced daze. “You look great, Mic. Now, let's get going.”
Michaela had never seen Francesca so excited. Their flat was a 25 minute walk away from the venue, and Francesca buzzed with excitement the whole walk there, chatting about live music and composers and complex music things that went right over Michaela’s head. But even though she understood not even a word, Michaela listened aptly - any word from Francesca’s mouth was endlessly intriguing.
When the one-sided conversation finally reached a lull, Michaela leaned into Francesca’s personal space and nudged her shoulder.
“Fran, you told me that there were several rules for attending this concert, and so far I’ve only heard one.”
Francesca perked up at this. “Oh yeah! Rule number two is… hm, oh, don’t clap in between movements.”
Michaela raised an eyebrow. “Don’t clap? That seems stupid.”
“No, it isn’t if you’d let me finish! You don’t clap in between movements, only after whole pieces. For example, The Planets is in seven movements, and you do not applaud until after Neptune. And you only clap once the conductor puts down their baton.”
Michaela let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot to remember. How did you even learn that stuff?”
“By copying, really. You just follow what everyone else does. So, if you feel the same, just copy me! And rule number three is very important. Do not talk about the concert in any negative way, or even constructively, until you are at least a street away from the building.”
“Why?”
“Well, you never know who could be behind you. Like, remember that time at our sixth form talent show when I had played Beethoven and Emily G giggled about it for the rest of the assembly? It sucks.”
Michaela nodded. She remembered, the memory burned into her mind.
Emily G had always made snide comments. But after one too many stage-whispered insults, Francesca bolted from the room, teachers standing about awkwardly unsure of what to do. Michaela ran right after her, finding Francesca with her head in her hands, bundled in a corner in the locker room.
She sniffled, hearing footsteps. “Go away.”
Michaela hesitated, but stayed put. “Fran, it’s only me.”
Francesca lifted her head, revealing her red, and swollen eyes, fresh tears still running down her cheeks. Michaela felt her heart break in two.
She slid down the wall, and sat next to Francesca, leaving a polite few inches between them. But Francesca, only leaned over and collapsed into Michaela, burying her head in her shoulder. They stayed there for the rest of the afternoon.
And if Emily G had to go to the nurse with a black eye from a rogue tennis ball in P.E. the next day, well. She had it coming.
Michaela shook her head, as if to rid herself of the memory, and intertwined Francesca’s hand in her own. “I should have punched her in the face.”
Francesca giggled, and nudged Michaela’s shoulder. “My hero.”
Michaela laughed, but was secretly quite chuffed. “Anything else I need to know?”
Francesca shook her head, relaxing against Michaela’s shoulder. “Not that I can think of. But I’ll be sure to let you know!”
Michaela sighed, but leaned further into Francesca’s side. “I know you will.”
She should absolutely be used to this by now.
When they arrived at the venue, Francesca’s pace sped up, practically dragging Michaela behind her through the entrance. Francesca moved through the corridors like it was second nature, which was surprising for her first visit.
“Fran, how on earth do you know where we’re going?”
Francesca looked back from her position slightly ahead, and smiled like it was obvious.
“I looked at the floor plans, duh. I like to be prepared.”
She paused and Michaela skidded to a halt.
“I mean, I know you love to be aloof and casual, but I just want this night to go perfect.”
Michaela would have never cared about Francesca’s overly organised habits, and was happy enough to be dragged along wherever. But there was such a caring look on her face, like she wanted to ensure Michaela was just as happy as she was, that made her heart beat out of time. She gently took Francesca’s fidgeting hands into her own.
“I’m happy if you’re happy, Frannie. That’s all I care about.”
Francesca loved it when Michaela called her Frannie. She giggled, and shot off down the hall again, their hands still intertwined.
“Well, then let's get going!”
When they arrived at their seats, Michaela was stunned. Not just by the view, although it was perfect, but by the seats themselves. They were in a box.
“Woah, how did you manage this?”
“The Bridgerton name can get you almost anything.”
Michaela laughed, and took a seat. “You’ve always said you hate using your name to get stuff.”
Francesca shrugged. “Well, yes, normally. But this is music. And what’s the point of having a stupidly long family history if I don’t use it to my advantage more than once?”
She ruffled around in her bag and pulled out two sheets of paper, handing one over to Michaela . “Oh, I nearly forgot! Here’s a program.”
Francesca really had thought of everything, and it was starting to make Michaela a little hot under the collar at the thought of Francesca planning this all out for her, and so she buried her nose in the program. Michaela seemed to be full of questions tonight, but seeing Francesca overly excited at answering was a gift.
“Hey, Fran?”
Francesca hummed in response, seemingly ingesting the list of performers.
“Why did they decide to put these two pieces of music together, anyways? Other than the space connection, there’s not really a thread.”
Francesca’s face lit up, and she turned her head round quick as a bullet. “Well, John Williams actually took a lot of inspiration from the Planets when writing the Star Wars score. I’m pretty surprised he never got called out for copyright issues, really.”
Michaela scoffed. “Uh, what? I think this is just another one of those times when your super computer musical brain makes connections that absolutely no-one else can see.”
She tapped Francesca’s forehead just to emphasise her point. Francesca huffed.
“Oh, come on, I’m not that bad!”
Michaela only raised her eyebrows.
“Well, I’m not doing that now! Just wait, you’ll see I’m-”
Francesca was cut off by the lights dimming and applause. Instead of finishing her sentence she just sent a smirk in Michaela’s direction, who only laughed.
They watched aptly as the conductor took her place at the podium and began to introduce herself and the concert.
“Hello and welcome to The Proms! Tonight’s programme is filled with iconic music from the screen and the concert hall. Star Wars is an undeniably timeless series, with an even more recognisable score. And Holst’s Planets Suite is a timeless work, even inspiring John Williams with his Star Wars score.”
Francesca turned to Michaela with the most devastating I-told-you-so grin on her face. Michaela knew she’d lost this fight, and accepted her defeat, leaning over to whisper in Francesca’s ear.
“You win this one, Frannie.”
Francesca shushed her quietly as the music began to play, but the open grin remained on her face for the remainder of the piece.
As the lights flicked back on for the interval, Francesca was still buzzing with excitement.
“So… What did you think?”
As much as Michaela loved to remain low-key, she had to admit she felt almost as buzzed as Francesca seemed. “I mean, it’s the Star Wars music, it’s already perfect. But, wow! You were certainly correct about music being way better live!”
Francesca grinned, happy that Michaela seemed to be enjoying herself as much as she was. “Well, as we’ve learnt, I am right a lot of the time, huh?”
Michaela rolled her eyes, but her smile never dropped. “Yeah, yeah. You know, you’re not the only one with fun facts?”
Francesca’s eyes widened. “What, more than all the behind the scenes stuff you told me while talking over all nine films in the series?”
“Very funny. But this one is music related.”
“Oh, well do tell!”
“In the Star Wars universe they’ve got their own genre of jazz, you know, like the cantina band?”
Francesca nodded.
“Well, officially, in universe, it's called ‘Jizz’.”
Francesca’s eyes widened, searching Michaela’s face for a sign that she was joking. “You’re serious?”
“One hundred percent!”
They locked eyes and at the same time burst into laughter, Francesca doubled over in her seat while Michaela held on to her armrest tightly.
“They actually retconned it recently, and they now refer to it as ‘Jatz’. But I think ‘Jizz’ is way cooler.”
Francesca struggled to speak through her giggles. “Cooler? I’m not sure that’s the word I’d describe that as!”
Michaela attempted to speak through her giggles. "I just like the image of C-3PO telling R2-D2 to play him some 'Jizz' music."
They burst into a second round of laughter, having to hold onto each other’s arms for support, letting their giggles fade only when the house lights dimmed.
When the orchestra began to play and the opening notes of ‘Mars’ rang out, strong and forceful, Francesca suddenly sat up straight, focused in a way Michaela had never seen. Every part of her was extremely still, except for her right hand, which was twitching slightly, almost shaking. When she eventually managed to drag her eyes away from the woman next to her and focus on the music, she realised that Francesca truly had been correct, the thundering rhythms of Mars almost identical to the Imperial March. She turned to make a quiet comment, but decided to leave Francesca in her element.
As the music continued, as the movements moved from Mars into Venus and into Mercury, Michaela realised that Francesca's hand wasn’t shaking. She was conducting, as if she knew the music so well that she was leading it along with the conductor. It was so adorable, intriguing, impressive and just so Francesca, that Michaela let out a short, audible breath at the sight. The woman next to her was endlessly full of surprises.
As Mercury ended, Francesca suddenly moved from her statuesque position, and placed one hand on top of Michaela’s.
“The next movement is Jupiter,” she whispered, excitement and awe obvious in her voice. “It’s my absolute favourite.”
Francesca leaned back into her chair but left her hand where it was, and as the movement started, Michaela had a nearly religious experience. The music washed over her completely, leaving her entirely enraptured in the orchestra. Perhaps some of the magic came from the hand gently caressing her own, but even alone, the experience was like none she’d ever had.
After several more movements and a standing ovation, they headed back out into the London streets, moonlight shining over their heads. Michaela waited until they were at least two streets away before breaking their silence.
“So, did they mean to play the planets out of order?”
Francesca let out a short laugh, walking backwards to face Michaela. “What?”
“They played Mars first, then Venus before going back to Mercury and then did the other in order. Is that… supposed to happen?”
“And you waited until now to ask that? You could see it in the program!”
Michaela huffed, her point clearly not getting across. “Well, someone told me that you have to be suitably far away from the theatre before making any comments that could be perceived as negative.”
Francesca only laughed more, having to stop to catch her breath. “Oh, I like this! Normally it’s me who takes rules too seriously, but I’m glad the tables have turned.”
“Hey, I was just following your instructions! Are you going to answer my question?”
Francesca’s smile softened. “The piece was written in that order. I guess Holst felt it would have more impact if it started with Mars rather than Mercury.”
Michaela glanced up at Francesca, still slightly miffed but always happy to hear the other woman talk about her favourite things. “Oh, that’s it?”
Francesca giggled lightly. “Mmhm. Now, let's get home. I can see a tub of ice cream calling our names from the freezer.”
Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, Michaela let herself be dragged along by Francesca’s hand.
A week later, Francesca crashed through their apartment door, exhausted. She had nipped to the shops to refill their cupboards, and of course today just had to be when maintenance was in working on the lift, so she’d had to walk up four flights of stairs with a tote bag of shopping on each shoulder. As leaned back against the door to catch her breath, she noticed music coming from the kitchen. Music that was very familiar. She peeked her head around the open doorway to find Michaela boiling the kettle, while dancing to Jupiter. From the Planets.
Franesca couldn’t help herself. “Aww, I guess you enjoyed the concert, then?”
Michaela whipped around, clearly not expecting any spectators, her cheeks flushed. She reached over to her phone and switched off the music, leaving them in silence.
“Oh, uh, hello, Francesca. I thought you wouldn’t be back for a while.”
Francesca smiled cheekily, skipping across the floor closer to Michaela. “Nope, you’re not changing the subject. So, you’re a Holst fan, now?”
Michaela brushed her off. “Yeah, yeah, you got me. Now, can I get back to my tea?”
“At least put the music back on!”
Michaela glared, but there was no real fire to it. It didn’t have any effect on Francesca - a five foot nothing woman wearing bunny slippers and a C-3PO shirt isn’t exactly a threatening sight. She sighed.
“Well, if you refuse to listen to any more Holst, then at least let me put something else on.”
Michaela clamps her hand over her phone. “You’re not stealing my phone again, Fran.”
Francesca laughs, and pulls out her own, before connecting it to the bluetooth speaker. “No need, I’ve got my own!”
Music starts playing from the speakers, and Michaela groans lightly. “Fran, I swear, if this is more of your weird contemporary stuff I’ll-”
As Michaela speaks, the music moves into a smoother beat, much more upbeat and pop-like than she was expecting. Francesca raised an eyebrow.
“You’ll what?”
“I don’t think I’ve heard this song before.”
Francesca rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re so uncultured. This is Sufjan Stevens, it's called Chicago.”
Michaela’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Oh, is he the guy who did the Call Me By Your Name music?”
“Of course you know him from some weird film thing. But, yeah. Now, come on, dance with me!”
For someone as musical as she was, Francesca was an awful dancer. She had the right sense of rhythm, but her moves were awkward and clunky, and although she’d never admit it, Michaela found it absolutely charming. She watched as Francesca twirled around the kitchen, momentarily transfixed by the pale patch of skin revealed when her shirt rode up. Francesca had abs. She felt herself fill with the want to touch, to feel, to just exist in Francesca’s space. For years, this feeling had been brewing beneath the surface, but it was beginning to bubble over.
Michaela was suddenly yanked from her daydreaming by Francesca's hand pulling her into a spin. They danced together around the room, slowly inching closer to each other. As the music slowed, so did their movements, Francesca’s hands on Michaela’s shoulders, and Michaela’s on her waist.
Francesca quietly sang along to the lyrics, her breath ghosting over Michaela’s lips. “I made a lot of mistakes, I made a lot of mistakes.”
Michaela let her eyes drop to Francesca’s lips before raising back to her eyes, finding Francesca doing the same. Her breath hitched, and she joined in. “I made a lot of mistakes.”
The song’s pace picked back up and it seemed to give Francesca a burst of confidence, as she leaned in, closing the gap between them.
Francesca’s first thought was finally, and then no other thoughts existed other than Michaela. The other woman kissed back with fervour, lightly pinning Francesca against the kitchen island. Francesca let out a groan that made them both pause. Francesca could feel her heart drop, beginning to accept Michaela walking away. But then she was suddenly met with Michaela’s lips back against hers, much more passionately than before. She gently urged her lips apart with her tongue, devouring every bit of Francesca she could. One of Francesca’s hands snaked up into Michaela’s hair and tugged, pushing in even closer. And just as Michaela’s hand began to creep under Francesca’s shirt she was cut off by-
“5,6, 5, 6, 7, 8!”
The two women burst apart, staring at each other awkwardly in shock while HOT TO GO! continued in the background. The tension between them was palpable, their eyes never leaving each other, even as the seconds ticked on. But inevitably, the silence had to be broken, and it was Francesca who made the move first.
“I thought you hated mainstream pop music.”
The statement was so out of left field, and delivered in such a matter-of-fact way that Michaela couldn’t help laughing. It started off as a giggle, but turned into a full body laugh, tears streaming down her face.
Francesca watched over her curiously, but Michaela’s laughter was infectious, and always had been, so she was helpless to do anything other than join in.
Michaela tried to speak through her laughter, her words coming out fractured. “It was- Hyacinth. All- her- fault!”
This only sent the women spiralling again, laughs spilling from their mouths, and tears spilling from their eyes. Eventually it died down, and the tension returned to the room. It was less hostile, but it still felt like there was now an invisible wall between them.
Michaela rubbed her neck mindlessly, bearing the weight of broaching the elephant in the room. “So, should we talk about it?”
Francesca could feel herself begin to panic, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, and her face growing uncomfortably hot. “I- well, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve got to.. I’ve got to go! So, yeah, don’t worry about it.”
Francesca bolted from the kitchen, leaving Michaela staring after her, her brain confused and her heart aching.
Francesca couldn’t stop pacing about her room. Her heart was still reeling, her cheeks warm and body tingling with the memory of Michaela everywhere. She felt like a teenager, so giddy and enamoured. But they hadn’t even spoken about it, Francesca fleeing before they could even have an adult conversation. Because they were adults, and who was she, running away like a terrified school girl? Michaela didn’t deserve this, not one bit.
She needed advice. Her mother was absolutely not on the list, and her brothers would be no help either. Daphne would be way too happy to hear about this, and would probably go into way too much detail, and Hyacinth would just laugh. So there was just one option left.
Francesca: Eloise
Francesca: Eloise
Francesca: Eloise
Francesca: Seriously please answer me
Francesca: This is serious
eloise: i’m listening…
Francesca: Michaela kissed me and I kissed her back but we never spoke about it afterwards because i sort of ran away and now its kinda awkward but I’m like so in love with her
eloise: wait, you two aren’t dating already?
Francesca: NO????
eloise: oh lol
eloise: how does one ‘sort of’ run away
Francesca: Are you going to be helpful? At all?
Eloise: i’m sorry for asking a clarifying question
eloise: but maybe just tell her what you told me? that you’re like helplessly in love with her and don’t regret anything ? sounds sensible
eloise: or idk kiss her again? im not great at this relationship advice stuff
Francesca: Yeah, I can tell
Francesca: But, thanks. I guess
She groaned and collapsed back onto her bed. Eloise didn’t tell her anything that she didn’t already know, but she knew that telling Michaela would be the most sensible option. But hiding in her room for a couple more days wouldn’t harm anyone, right?
Michaela stood in the kitchen, as if Francesca would just suddenly reappear. After ten minutes she gave up, moving to go to her room, but found the tote bags full of shopping discarded by the door. Francesca must have been in such a state that she left a mess. That was unheard of. Michaela hovered outside of Francesca’s room, nearly knocking on the door, but decided to give her some space. Clearly that was what the whole running-away-without-colour-coding-and-putting-away-the-shopping situation was about.
She sighed, and headed back to the kitchen, restocking the fridge with one hand, while texting the one person she knew could possibly help.
Michaela: I kissed Francesca
John: Oh.
John: Did she kiss you back?
Michaela: Yeah, she did
John: And…?
Michaela: Well we had an awkward off topic conversation afterwards and then she ran off when I suggested talking about it, and I think she’s hiding from me now
John: Maybe you should just tell her how you feel
Michaela: Maybe
John always had a way of getting right to the point, and normally that was exactly what she needed. But who was she to ambush Francesca with confessions and feelings when she ran away at the mention of them?
Avoiding someone when you lived together was a very hard task. It helped that Francesca had a very solid routine, and that she also knew Michaela’s inside out. Francesca absolutely hated change, but she hated confrontation even more, so if she had to eat her cereal in her bedroom instead of in the kitchen then so be it.
As the days passed, Francesca felt more and more ridiculous for hiding away, but the passing time made broaching the conversation, or even approaching Michaela an even more daunting task.
It all came to a head on Francesca’s birthday.
She woke up as normal, and headed along the hall to the kitchen, but stopped short when the opened the door.
There were birthday banners taped to the walls, confetti sprinkled neatly on the table, and a single envelope sat on the island. Francesca was taken aback, and after thoroughly sweeping her eyes over the room and deducing that Michaela was not hiding behind a chair waiting to jump out, she made her way over to the island. She gently picked up the envelope, addressed to her in Michaela’s unmistakable handwriting. Francesca had always been jealous of Michaela’s penmanship, the curves and slopes of cursive coming naturally to her.
She delicately opened the envelope, pulling out a card. The front had a cheesy birthday greeting, adorned with cute, smiling sheep. Francesca smiled despite herself, and opened it. She felt her heart warm up as she read, almost as if Michaela was here with her in the moment.
Dear Francesca,
Happy Birthday!
I’m sorry about our recent awkwardness. I know you’ve been needing space recently, but I still wanted to do something nice for your birthday.
I’d love for us to make up, and if you’d like to join me, I am having coffee in the living room at 11.30. Attendance is not necessary, but it would be nice to have company.
All my love,
Michaela.
At 11.30 on the dot, Michaela felt the sofa dip next to her, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was hiding. She turned to smile at Francesca, and god, how was it possible that she looked even prettier than usual? She’d missed Francesca’s face. They looked at each other for a beat, before Michaela cleared her throat.
“Hi.”
Francesca smiled. She’d missed Michaela’s voice. “Hi.”
Michaela handed Francesca a small parcel, neatly wrapped in sheet music. “Happy birthday.”
If it was possible, Francesca’s smile grew even more as she accepted the gift. She gently unwrapped the parcel, trying her best to not tear the wrapping. The present was a small brown book, slightly weathered with age. She read the title and gasped, looking up to make eye contact with Michaela.
“Is this…”
Michaela smiled gently. “It’s a mini copy of the Planets. The notes are really small and hard to read, but I think you’ll manage it.”
Francesca was engrossed in the book, flicking through the pages. “Wow, Michaela this is so…”
Michaela smirked and turned to the first page. “And it’s signed.”
Francesca gasped, tracing one finger over the signature. She could feel tears threatening to spill. “What? Is that the conductor from our concert? How on earth did you manage that?”
Michaela smirked, a little proud of herself. “You’re not the only one with connections, Fran.”
Francesca was already overwhelmed but the nickname sent her over the edge, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Michaela immediately looked concerned.
“Do you not like it?”
Francesca only cried more. Michaela was beginning to struggle to read the situation. She hesitantly reached out for Francesca, who grabbed her hand tightly and securely.
“Fran, are you okay?”
Francesca nodded, finally able to piece a sentence together. “More than okay. Michaela, this is so much, I just-”
Francesca took a deep breath. “I love you Michaela. As in, I’m in love with you.”
Michaela’s eyes widened. “You are? But you ran away from me?”
Francesca laughed. “Yeah, that was a little stupid of me, wasn’t it? I was so scared of the unknown, I was terrified you might not want to be my friend anymore if you knew.”
Michaela gently cupped Francesca’s cheek with one hand, a soft look in her eyes. “Francesca, that’s ludicrous. That would never happen. I’m not sure how you haven’t noticed, but I am incredibly in love with you too.”
Francesca’s heart soared, and she leaned into Michaela’s palm. “You are?”
Michaela hummed an affirmative. “One thousand percent. I have been for years.”
Francesca’s jaw dropped, and she laughed. “You mean we could have been doing this for years?”
“Doing what?”
Francesca’s face grew hot at the suggestive look on Michaela face, and she drew in even closer.
“Doing this.”
And for the second time, she closed the gap between their lips. It was just as life changing as the first time, but the fireworks dancing behind her closed eyelids felt much more clearer. She sneaked a hand up into Michaela’s hair and tugged, and this time got to hear the delicious moan it triggered.
Michaela gently inched her hand under Francesca’s shirt, waiting for any sign to stop. When she received no signs, her hand continued its journey, settling on soft skin, exploring the curves of Francesca’s abs. Michaela shuddered. She could die happy in this moment.
Francesca giggled, and the laughter brought their kisses slowly to a stop. Michaela looked up at her through her eyelashes and drank in the sight of Francesca, lips smudged and cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink.
“I’ve got a question, Fran.”
Francesca raised an eyebrow, a small seed of doubt planting itself in her chest. “Go ahead.”
“That song we, well, kissed to the other day. Is it in a movie or something?”
Francesca giggled, and Michaela wished she could bottle the sound. “And you call yourself a cinephile. It’s in Little Miss Sunshine. I actually heard the song for the first time when you made me watch it last year.”
“Oh, you’re very welcome then, Frannie.”
The nickname made Francesca’s heart melt. “However can I repay you, dear Michaela?”
Michaela pretended to think, tapping one hand to her chin, before her mouth morphed into a devilish grin. “I can think of a few things.”
Francesca gulped. “My mum and my sister will be round at 12.30.”
Michaela shrugged her shoulders. “Well, that gives us an hour to catch up on the years we’ve missed.”
And who was Francesca to deny Michaela's irresistible lips? She gave into the pull, and collapsed into her arms, lips meeting over, and over.
Later, when Violet and Eloise walked in, interrupting the two women who were so unaware of the time, Francesca had held onto Michaela’s hand while they were showered with hugs and excited words from their family. Michaela held on tighter when Violet decided it would be an idea to facetime the extended family to tell them of the great news.
And that night, when they were wrapped in each other's arms, sweaty but content, Michaela tracing nonsensical patterns into Francesca’s arm, Francesca knew this was where she was meant to be.