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It was loud. Even before they got close to the parade, the music, cheers, and honks carried over the streets. The sidewalks were densely packed, making the June fever worse. She could feel the heat radiating off the others beside her, having weaved and crammed their way to the barricades for the view. By the state of some of the attendees’ attire, they ought to have it worse, especially the one in a massive wolf mask on the opposite side of the road.
Lara was glowing, drinking in the sun, with a rainbow on her cheek and in her cascading waves. The kind of dye that doesn’t last a week, it barely masked her dark locks, clumpy in its application and rubbing off onto her bare shoulder and straps of her top. Bright eyeshadow gleened over a light face of makeup, her armour delicate for the day, and suited up in short shorts and a cropped tank. She was in her element, loud booming bass from a truck rolling past and the festive air, while Yoonchae was a fish in a pan, frying, shades and sunscreen her only protection.
“Look,” Lara urged with a soft smile. At the parade, not just at her.
Yoonchae tried.
She found herself dissociating, staring blankly as paraders marched on by, overwhelmed by the noise and the heat. The glasses aided in secrecy, but Lara caught the rigid set of her head. She didn’t comment, thankfully, only took her hand and gave a light squeeze. It was warm and sweaty, but Lara didn’t seem to care, and Yoonchae couldn’t be bothered to extract her hand from Lara’s interlaced grip.
They didn’t talk much.
Lara pointed out pretty floats and exotic dress with their clasped hands, and offered commentary. Yoonchae looked, took it in.
People in vibrant fabrics bearing banners, flags, placards, and bags of little pieces of pride to hand out; people in scant clothing, some sporting paint instead; and even people in tightly bound leathers and ropes that left little to imagination.
She was hotter just watching them. Empathy, surely.
She didn’t realize how crushing her grasp was until she forced herself to relax.
Lara perked up at the new wave of participants walking by. “That’s you,” she said.
For a second, Yoonchae’s heart stopped. Like her nonexistent flag had been outed. She scanned the signs, reading “My first pride” at the forefront.
She huffed; she must have been delirious.
“Were you expecting something else?” Lara teased.
Was it crazy to yes? That she’s thought about it. That she wasn’t thinking “my first pride” the whole time. She could say no, match Lara’s joking tone and laugh it off, but her scorn was incriminating, directed at herself.
Lara became more serious the longer the lull stretched.
“Maybe,” Yoonchae admitted at last.
Lara turned to face her straight on, all traces of teasing gone. “Yoonchae, I know there’s a lot of speculation on your sexuality, and whatever it may be, it’s valid. If you feel affinity to what you see here, that’s more than okay. I just want you to know that.”
And oh, they were doing this right now. Yoonchae didn’t know where to look. The eyes were too all-knowing, the rainbow flag too accusing. Not the lips—too late.
“Yoonchae?”
She kept her gaze moving downward. Except there wasn’t much farther down to go. Her throat, her collarbones, her breasts, cupped nicely by her bra, the outlines of which were visible through the sheer material of her top, the pink straps peeking out behind white spaghetti ones, a dizzying contrast against her brown, sun-warmed skin—
Yoonchae ripped her gaze away. “I know,” she rasped, and it was horridly audible, worse than a bullfrog in mating season. God, her throat was parched. She swallowed, but her mouth was dry too.
Lara raised her brow. “Did you bring water?”
Yoonchae opened her mouth to answer, but Lara was already digging in her purse and handing her a personal bottle.
“Drink.”
Yoonchae did. It was cool against her tongue, soothing as it slides down to her stomach.
She was guilty as she returned it half empty, but the feeling didn’t last long, swept away by the sight of Lara throwing back her head and throat working as she drained the remainder, the full damage done by her hair dye was on display, blue and purple on the tops of her shoulders, her gold necklace glinting around her neck and a faint sheen of sweat glistening at the ridges of her clavicle.
Yoonchae desperately tried not to think about Lara’s lips touching where hers did mere seconds ago. It was fine, they’ve shared so much more, what was a water bottle next to it all?
The heat has addled her brain, totally and completely.
A wet shine lingered on Lara’s lips. Yoonchae licked her own.
“If you’re curious,” Lara continued like she hadn’t induced a crisis in Yoonchae, “if you want to try, I’m here.”
She’s reached the stage of auditory and visual hallucinations. There was no way Lara said what she thought she said, no way she just winked at her.
She wasn’t thinking straight.
Objectively, Lara was attractive. Yoonchae knew this.
Subjectively, she was easy to be with. Yoonchae also knew this. She could be mean without being cruel, always within the realm of what was comfortable, what felt safe; she was patient whenever Yoonchae was finding her words, learning a language for her; she was so free with physical affection, and though they were still working on casual hugs, she was warm and grounding.
Most would jump at the offer.
Yoonchae might as well be one of them. She mulled it over. “What does trying include?”
“What do you want it to?” Lara countered.
She was curious. Frankly, she hadn’t been in a relationship, hadn’t kissed anyone meaningfully, having never gone further than crushing from afar. It was a hassle to meet people, to build up a connection. When her schedule got busy, it hadn’t seemed worth trying.
And Lara’s lips looked really good. Kissable. Lined in round sweeps, full and plump. Devastating as a corner rose in a wicked smirk. Yoonchae would ask to try the product if she were more confident in rocking a dark tint.
But that wasn’t the “trying” she meant.
She was staring again. “Uh,” she uttered eloquently.
“A… kiss?” Lara guessed, laughing as Yoonchae sputtered and spun away in embarrassment.
“Yeah,” she conceded, barely able to meet her gaze. “If you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Come here.”
Lara pulled Yoonchae down and pressed a kiss to her jaw. Which was nice, but it wasn’t where she anticipated it.
Yoonchae pouted.
“Maybe not in public,” Lara deferred. It wasn’t dismissal, but it felt like it.
“I don’t care,” Yoonchae protested, “no one’s watching us.”
“What was that?” Lara had the gall to act as if she hadn’t heard.
Yoonchae was a mini sun, exploding internally, bright as the red paint on Lara’s cheek. But it was too late to back out, pinned under a heavy gaze.
“I want to. Please.”
Which was what it took for Lara to lean in again. She lifted Yoonchae’s sunglasses and perched them atop her head.
Yoonchae closed her eyes at the onslaught of unfiltered sunlight hitting her retinas. Hands cradled the sides of Yoonchae’s face, tilting her head and drawing her down in a tentative brush of lips.
It was soft—the first thought that registered—softer than she expected. The contact was brief, Lara’s lips moving for a second before drawing back with a tiny sound.
Her eyes flicked up to meet Yoonchae’s half-lidded. When Yoonchae didn’t pull away, Lara pressed more insistently, little sucks and a faint graze of teeth, drawing a sigh from her. It was obvious she’d done this before; Yoonchae didn’t want to think about with whom.
She grabbed Lara’s waist without thinking. Her hands met bare skin, Lara’s top having ridden up, midriff exposed.
Lara made a low hum and let herself be tugged close, flush against each other.
Their hair partitioned a bubble around them, a blonde and technicolour shield. From within, Yoonchae could pretend it was just them, the din fading out of attention.
She settled into Lara’s rhythm, mirroring her movements as best she could, clumsy but earnest. Her hands wandered under Lara’s top to the band of her bra, toying with the clasp without unfastening it, dropping away when nails dug into her neck in warning. Down to her butt to give a squeeze, before resting at her waist once more, savouring the contact.
As Lara drew back to breathe, Yoonchae chased after her, kissing and nipping at her bottom lip.
Lara groaned and Yoonchae flinched back. She was careful not to bite too hard and fast, stopping when she felt resistance, but she still feared hurting her inadvertently.
“No, it’s good,” Lara murmured. “I liked that.”
“Oh.” She was struck dumb by the simple admission, while a spark lit low in Yoonchae’s abdomen—a foreign sensation, but not unpleasant.
“I’d tell you if it’s ever too much. You would do the same.” Lara dragged her back in and Yoonchae went easily.
At a swipe of a tongue, Yoonchae loosened her jaw, and in it slipped. Their tongues slid over one another as Lara explored leisurely, mapping the topography of her mouth.
On a whim, Yoonchae sucked around Lara’s tongue.
A moan left Lara, low and visceral, vibrations travelling over Yoonchae’s skin. The tips of Yoonchae’s ears burned and the spark raged.
She was lightheaded, their breaths mixing to the point of scant oxygen.
She was starting to understand why people kissed. It was easy to lose herself in the wet heat. Every noise she coaxed from Lara was sweet as she swallowed.
A round of cheers and shouts jolted her. She separated from Lara with a startled noise, the surroundings rushing back into her awareness.
She had to remind herself it was for the float drifting idly by, not at them. Self-conscious now, she checked to see no eyes or cameras fixed on them, just a side-eye from a spectator adjacent.
She touched a knuckle to her lip. It throbbed slightly, tender to the touch, and she wondered just how bad it was, smeared gloss.
“That was…” she trailed off.
Insane, she didn’t know what came over her, and very much hot.
Lara’s lips were still glistening, only now from their shared saliva and Yoonchae’s gloss, slightly swollen. There was a noticeable flush to her cheeks and her breaths came fast.
Yoonchae felt pride bloom in her chest; she did that. She licked her thumb and rubbed at the shine of her gloss around Lara’s mouth.
“Here.” Lara thumbed under Yoonchae’s lip in requital, frowning. “You might need a reapplication. Or—”
She beamed. “I could eat it all off for you.”
She was too eager for it to be simply a favour.
It wasn’t the place, Yoonchae conceded, but once the floodgates opened, they were difficult to close.
Lara’s smile softened. “You don’t need to have an answer now,” she said, “but if you ever want to experiment, I’m down for whatever.”
The rest of the parade was spent above the clouds with Lara keeping her tethered. Yoonchae no longer worried about heat stroke, only if this was somehow a dream.
As the tail closed, the crowd began filtering out.
“Do you want to get something cold?” Lara asked as they followed the flow of the sluggish rush. “Ice cream or a drink?”
Yoonchae nodded.
Foot traffic was slow-moving, the roads somehow worse.
They found a small ice cream parlour nearby without a terrible line-up. Outside and inside the shop were two different worlds, the air-conditioned chill raising goosebumps along her arms.
Matcha and chocolate, she perked up at the bittersweet flavours.
They walked out each with a cup in hand. She rushed to finish it before it melted into soup, too hurriedly, regretting it when an icy bite lodged deep in her chest.
Lara looked over. “Are you okay?”
“No. I ate too fast. My heart has gone cold.”
Laughing at her expense, Lara pressed a palm over Yoonchae’s sternum like it might alleviate the sting. It didn’t, taking a half minute to abate, but she appreciated the gesture apart from the near boob grab—not that she minded it neither.
As soon as Yoonchae recovered, Lara stole a scoop from her. “I’m avenging your honour,” she defended, but acquiesced a scoop in exchange.
Yoonchae slowed her pace, having learned her lesson. Between mouthfuls, she glanced at Lara as she polished off her own ice cream, lips wrapping around the spoon, tongue darting out to clean up chocolate traces. It worked a little too well, and Yoonchae wound up with a muddy pond at the bottom of her cup.
By the time they exited the parking lot, the roads had cleared marginally, the drive home peaceful, rhythm and blues playing softly from the speakers as the environs became more familiar.
Lara dropped her off at her apartment and walked her to the foyer, but didn’t go any further.
“You can come in,” Yoonchae invited. “Stay for a while.”
“Really?”
“I won’t say it again.” She’s played these games before.
They took the elevator up and reached her unit shortly.
All she wanted was to collapse onto her bed, but not while covered in sunscreen and sweat. To add to the inconvenience, she hadn’t eaten since morning aside from the ice cream, and mild hunger gnawed at her.
“What do you want to eat?” Yoonchae asked, clicking through her delivery apps.
“You?”
“Food, Lara.” Her hair helped hide her creeping blush.
“You—”
And Yoonchae contemplated throwing her phone.
“—choose, I trust you.”
She reused her two of her recent orders for time’s sake, only misclicking once.
Lara’s gaze was fixated on her all the while from her spot on the couch, lazy in her confidence. Yoonchae couldn’t stay any longer without spontaneously combusting.
“I’m taking a shower,” she announced.
“Is that a statement or…”
“Statement.”
Maybe it was in poor taste as a host to leave her guest alone, but Yoonchae needed this. To stare herself in the mirror. To clean off her makeup, to feel the rush of water numbing her skin, to clear her head. She hadn’t quite achieved that last bit.
Was this what a date was like? An outing, holding hands while pressed together, kissing like the other was the sole thing that mattered. How effortless it was and how good it was.
She could still feel a phantom tingle dance across her skin, her body remembering the sensation.
She cranked the temperature down.
It wasn’t much use, only a shock to her senses. She stepped out before full-body shivers broke out, and towelled off.
Her wet hair soaked dark spots on the back and shoulders of her shirt, too tired to blow-dry.
She padded back to the living area to find Lara fiddling with the television remote, scanning the menus.
Lara glanced up, remote forgotten. “Hi, gorgeous.”
Yoonchae ignored it for her own sanity. “You can shower if you want.”
“Are you saying I’m dirty?” Lara gasped in faux distress, resisting a chuckle at Yoonchae’s exasperated scoff.
“I’m offering, and you can say no. If you do want to, just take whatever from my closet.”
“I do. Thanks, love. I’ll be quick.” Lara flashed a grin and sashayed away.
She knew it was just a pet name, nothing more, no overthinking it, she begged. When Lara got back, they could talk about it.
With time to kill before their dinner arrived and craving a distraction, Yoonchae fished her phone out. There was a scroll of notifications on the screen and at the very top of the list, “lararajj tagged you in a post.” She tapped on it.
Inside was a photo dump from today, posted a few minutes ago. Included among the pics were a fit check before the event, selfies of them with the parade in the background, Lara serving face, and candid shots of Yoonchae, her user tagged in each. Caught zoning out, an indignant expression while fanning herself, mid-laugh, immersed in watching. Some moments, she hadn’t recalled Lara having her phone in her hand.
The last image had her frozen, staring for a solid minute. Lara’s arm wrapped around Yoonchae’s shoulders as she kissed her cheek, brushing the corner of her lips, face paint on blast, while Yoonchae was flushed from the blazing sun, fighting to keep her disinterested nonchalance. It didn’t work, a smile forming at the edges, eyes curving.
The type of photo for a hard launch into the stratosphere, implicating her and undeniable on all counts.
She’s beaten one allegation and most certainly earned another in return.
The like count skyrocketed during the minute, and she hadn’t the willpower to open the comments.
A ring appeared around Lara’s profile in real time. She clicked it.
“Lara?” she called.
The muffled sounds of singing and splashing answered in her stead.
Yoonchae was going to kill her.
