Ava stops chewing then, frozen still, and the absurdity of Jean’s words hangs in the air between them. Jean sets her fork down, massaging the ache blossoming behind her forehead. ‘I’m sorry – I don’t know why I keep saying these things.’
Ava’s hand finds Jean’s on the table, whisper-soft against her injured wrist. ‘Don’t be. I like it, hearing about your life. When you stop worrying about what other people think and open up.’
Jean has no notion what to say to that, never mind what it makes her feel; there’s simply nothing to compare it to. Slow enough to keep from jostling her wrist, she laces her fingers through Ava’s, savouring the skim of thumb against knuckles.
Afterwards, Ava insists on carrying their plates back through to the kitchen. And Jean retrieves dessert from the fridge, setting the glass platter down on the counter.
Ava rinses their plates and loads them into the dishwasher, eyes popping as she takes in the pièce de résistance. ‘Oh my god, this looks amazing. What is it?’
‘An edible Twix arrangement.’ Jean points to each item in turn. ‘There’s salted caramel Twix cheesecake, Twix cupcakes, and fruit covered in Twix chocolate.’
Ava bounces with excitement then, curls shifting with their own gravity. She wraps both arms around Jean, careful not to crush her injured wrist, and plants a firm kiss against the swell of Jean’s cheek.
Ava doesn’t pull away then. And Jean holds still, scarcely daring to breathe. She just drinks it all in. The swell of Ava’s hip beneath her hand; the sliver of warm skin in the gap peeking between Ava’s denim shorts and soft cotton top. The quickening rise and fall of her ribs pressed flush against Jean’s breasts. The heady aroma of Ava’s cologne, and beneath it an even more intoxicating scent – the natural perfume of Ava’s sun-warmed skin.
Perhaps if she stays like this, Ava will continue to cradle her. Time will freeze, the two of them fused together.
But no. Ava’s fingertips caress Jean’s back, from the nape of her neck to the dip of her spine. Even this ghost of a touch is enough to set Jean trembling, which she’d have assumed would be permission enough.
Yet Ava, always exquisitely careful with her, pulls back just far enough for Jean to glimpse pupils blown dark and wide as the disc of a sunflower. ‘I’d like to kiss you.’
Breathless laughter catches in Jean’s throat. ‘I think I’ll go crazy if you don’t. And there’s no need to keep asking me every time.’
What they have needs no grand declarations. She’s been all Ava’s since that first night, when, even as a stranger, she’d set every nerve in Jean’s body alight.
‘I don’thaveto. But I like to.’ Ava presses a kiss against Jean’s temple. ‘It’s been a while. Besides, something’s going on with you. Ever since your wrist.’
‘It is,’ Jean allows, rubbing the flannel lapel of Ava’s shirt. ‘But I feel good with you. Safe.’
Jean’s embarrassment proves short-lived as Ava ducks down to kiss her, chaste until Jean sucks at that full lower lip. Then Ava’s pulling her close, Jean balanced on tiptoe, kissing her breathless.
‘You know,’ Ava says, lips warm against Jean’s hair. ‘I wouldn’t mind a break before dessert.’
Jean’s heart pounds against the drum of Ava’s skin, such a fierce tattoo that she must surely feel the vibrations. ‘Oh?’
‘Yeah.’ Her hands slide round Jean’s body, coming to rest on either side of her hips. ‘I was thinking maybe you could show me around upstairs?’
‘I could do that.’ Jean holds out her good hand. Leads the way.
Then they’re in Jean’s bedroom. In bringing her here, having Ava and being had by her here in the bed where Jean sleeps every night, she’s relinquished all possibility of ever being able to exorcise Ava’s ghost. Even after she leaves tomorrow, and later for good, the memory of her will linger in the dip of the mattress, in the empty space in Jean’s bed.
‘You alright?’ Ava’s hand finds Jean’s cheek, jolting her out of the future. Back into the present where Ava is flesh and blood and filled with animal craving.
‘I’m feeling good.’ Jean loops her arms around Ava’s shoulders. ‘About to be feeling better still.’
But Ava doesn’t lean down to kiss her. She keeps on watching Jean through eyes darkened by lust that she doesn’t act upon. ‘You sure? We don’t have to do anything. Things will be good between us either way.’
Tenderness tightens to an ache in Jean’s throat. ‘I really want this. I really want you. So much that it scares me.’
Ava wears a peculiar expression, frowning and smiling at once. ‘I’ll never give you a reason to be afraid of me, Jean. I promise.’
And just like that Jean’s face becomes a contradiction too, tears brimming even as she laughs. ‘I know that. I’ve known it since the first night we met. It’s just…’
‘What?’ Ava smooths the hair back from Jean’s face. There’s no place to hide, but she doesn’t need one.
‘My life… my past. It can be complicated.’
‘Then let me give you something simple now.’
