worked so she wouldn’t develop a reputation of being a leading-indicator-for-hire, her clients valued her opinions above her competitors’. Plus, being able to set your own hours was primo. What other job in this salary scale would let you come home at eight a.m., flop down on the couch, and fall asleep?
Outside of starring on an MTV reality show, none.
When she woke up at around two that afternoon, it wasn’t because she had enough rest. The insistent knocking on her door aroused her. Rolling off the couch, wincing from the sting in her eyes, she swaggered across the room. Lucy glared back from the hall, her eyes afire, her arms crossed.
The witch stumbled for words. “Lucy?”
Lucy’s expression remained unchanged. Riona began to wonder what form of insectus bugus was up her butt.
“What’s up?”
“What’s up?” The clicking noise turned out to be her neighbor’s heels pounding a warlike cadence against the floor. “You, me, lunch at one at the BLZ Bistro?”
“Oh, shit.” Riona hoped her hair wasn’t as oily as it felt when she ran her fingers through it. “I’m so freaking sorry. I … I was just so tired, and I came home from the gym this morning and fell asleep. I didn’t think I’d be out so long. I…”
“Shh…” Lucy’s fingers were silky against Riona’s lips. As she cut off her rapid fire apology, Riona’s eyes focused in on the plump bottom lip of the accosting woman. “I thought something like that might have happened. Look, we’ll just plan for another time. That’s the good thing about first dates, right? No matter when you do them, they’re always firsts.”
She nodded, opening the door further, hanging onto it for support. “Yeah, true. Or…”
Reaching out, Riona took Lucy’s supple wrist in her grip and tugged. “What do you say we do lunch here, now? Maybe take in a movie a la something black, white, and old, and just chill. That is, assuming you’re available.”
Lucy melted under Riona’s puppy dog eyes. “Yeah, yeah, bat your pretty eyelashes at me and convince me to stay. Okay, why not? You better be a good cook, though. I was hoping for something hot and spicy.”
Looking at Lucy’s violet eyes and full lips, Riona secretly hoped she was talking about more than food.
Five hours and two romantic comedies later, two full grown women lay on the floor in front of Riona’s flat screen with empty bowls at their sides. Outside, daylight leached into the horizon, casting long shadows across the amber light that filled the modern-styled apartment.
This was the part of the first date — or any date, really — that Riona loathed: the uncomfortable, awkward goodbye. The afternoon was over, and so was the pleasant, get-to-know-you, if-I-have-any-ulterior-motives-I-won’t-be-revealing-them-now filler conversation that was the trademark of such events.
Riona told Lucy all about her work — her professional work as a statistician; how she’d grown up in a small town in Northern Mass, of her desire to get a pug or chihuahua or even a cat, but fearing a pet would tie her down in a way that would make spontaneous trips to England or San Francisco or Taipei too hard, of her love for Beatles covers, though she hated the actual recordings of the Fab Four; and of being petrified of potato bugs. In turn, Lucy explained how she felt like the misunderstood black sheep of her family, and of her father, who thought her seven brothers were the greatest thing in all creation, of her enthusiasm for punk rock and modern art (she claimed that she was an unrequited artist), and mentioned in passing her position in HR at some good ol’ boys’ firm seeking expansion.
The present lull in conversation led to a silence that was getting heavier than a wet towel on a sapling spruce.
Lucy rolled her head toward the window — “Getting late, I should probably get going. Got some work to do and...” Her eyes traced an arc back across the space and locked onto Riona’s stare, taking in the sight of a wicked grin.
Oh, so she was leaving it to Riona to make a move then? Well, fine.
As Lucy’s body began to roll, Riona dashed out her hand and pulled her back down. “You don’t need to go yet. Stay a little longer.”
Lucy propped herself up on her elbow, resting her head on her fisted hand. “Convince me.”
Their kiss was simple: a slow drawing of lip over lip, not sparking heat, but definitely wet and enticing. When Riona pulled back, her heart