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  But she is, and it’s becoming more and more impossible to resist her kindness. And her lovely hair. And goddammit, her dark eyes. And those lips…Gwendolyn realizes she’s staring when Lila leans forward abruptly. “Let’s go for dinner Friday night.”

  Gwendolyn doesn’t know what to say, so she tilts her head as if she didn’t understand the question.

  “Me, you, tacos. There’s a great taco place on Washington Street. I think we should go. And talk. And get to know each other better.” Lila stops, slides to the end of the bench, and stands. “Because if you’re staying, we’re going to have to get along.”

  Gwendolyn blinks as she tries to decide if accepting the invitation is a good idea or the worst idea ever to exist.

  “And I know you don’t like it, but Carol is the most important person in my life. So you’re kind of stuck with me.” Lila pushes her phone into her back pocket and slips her purse over her head and shoulder. The strap lands directly between her breasts. Gwendolyn wants to smack herself for noticing how large they look in the dark green shirt. “My eyes are up here.”

  And she wants to also kick herself for being called out. She is typically so much smoother than this.

  “Why don’t you text me, and let me know. Okay?”

  Gwendolyn swallows and nods, and just like that, Lila has turned and left the kitchen, leaving a very stunned and embarrassed woman calling herself an idiot in her wake.

  Chapter Nine

  Tonight is not a date.

  It’s two people getting to know each other. That’s all.

  Lila knows this. She’s the one who suggested it. Then why is she so fucking nervous? She’s early because she needs a drink to calm her nerves. She’s really laid off the alcohol since summer volleyball started, but she doesn’t care. She needs a margarita, and she needs it now.

  The bartender has served her before, so he knows the second she sits what she wants. He slides a margarita across the bar and winks. “Lime on the rocks, no salt.”

  “You remembered.”

  “I did. Hard to forget a face like yours.”

  “I meant the drink,” she says with a smile. “But thank you.”

  “Are you meeting someone?”

  “I am.”

  He leans in closer. “If he doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.” He’s persistent. She loves persistent women. Men? Not so much.

  “He’s a she.”

  “Oh, not a date then? Wonderful.” He flashes a toothy grin. “If you want to hang out later…”

  She rolls her eyes. She knows she doesn’t scream lesbian, but Jesus Christ, does she need a sign around her neck? “You’re cute. But I’m not interested.” She picks her drink up and takes a long sip. “Ever.”

  “Come on now,” he says with a laugh. “You gotta admit, I’d be fun.”

  “My God,” she says under her breath. “Seriously? Dude, I’m a lesbian.” She watches his eyes widen and almost fall out of his head. She laughs. “See? Not interested.”

  “Well, okay then.” He shrugs. “If you ever want to change teams…”

  “I won’t.”

  “Ever?”

  “Not even if the very future of civilization depended on it.” If she was a violent person, she’d reach across the bar top and slap this motherfucker across the face. She feels a hand on her back, and she whips around, “What the fu—” she starts, and Gwendolyn is standing there. “Oh, thank God. I thought…never mind.”

  “Thought I was another man trying to hit on you?”

  “You saw that?” She points to the bartender, who is waiting on another customer at the other end of the long bar.

  Gwendolyn smiles. “I did. It was pretty fun to watch.”

  “How the hell long were you watching?”

  “Since the first sip of your margarita, which looks delicious, by the way.” She reaches, her forearm brushing against Lila’s bicep, and picks the drink up. She quickly brings it to her lips, takes a drink, and Lila watches her every move, from the way she grips with her thumb, fore, and middle finger to the way her lips press against the green glass. Her pinky is sticking out, and when she moves the glass away from her mouth, she licks her lips. “Needs salt.”

  “No way,” Lila manages to say, but she can feel how breathless she is. “Let’s get a table, please. I don’t want this guy to hit on you, too.”

  As those words are out of her mouth, the bartender shouts, “Gwendolyn Carter? Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “Jesus,” Lila whispers. “Do you know everyone in this fucking town?”

  Gwendolyn laughs. “I grew up here. Remember?” She reaches out to the bartender, who kisses her knuckles. “Matthew. My love. How are you?”

  “I’m good. God, it’s so awesome to see you. How the hell have you been?” He’s ecstatic, but Lila still wants to kick him in the crotch.

  “Good, good. In town for a few weeks. Needed a break from the hustle and bustle of LA.”

  Matthew laughs and nods. “Oh, yeah, famous actress. How could I forget?”

  Lila glares because, indeed, how the hell could he forget that this woman standing in front of him is famous? Well, slightly famous. Either way, way the heck more famous than he is. What an idiot. She fixes her eyes back on Gwendolyn. Matthew’s working her pretty hard, and Lila laughs to herself because any second now, he’s going to realize she’s the one Lila is waiting for. Not that it’s a date.

  Because this is not a date.

  This is dinner. Getting to know each other. An excuse to eat tacos and chips and guacamole and queso by the bowlful.

  Gwendolyn isn’t dressed as if it’s a date. Or is she? She’s wearing skinny jeans and black leather flats and a black tank top. Her blond hair is in a French braid, and her makeup is light, nothing too intense or crazy. Definitely not date makeup.

  She looks really good, though. Like, really freaking good. She has one hand on the bar, the other on the back of Lila’s chair, and her thumb keeps moving over Lila’s shoulder blade. She’s standing close enough to smell her perfume, even over the Mexican food. Her left bicep is flexed as if she’s uncomfortable and wants to get out of the situation, but her voice is calm, kind, all the things Lila has barely heard. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Gwendolyn was the nicest person ever.

  Unfortunately, she knows the truth, and if provoked, Gwendolyn is not at all how she’s acting right now.

  Oh…acting. She’s acting! Lila smiles. She gets it now. This is where Gwendolyn’s years and years of acting lessons are coming in handy. How convenient. I wonder why she couldn’t fucking act with me?

  Lila shakes her head to get the thought out. All of this is fine. Everything is going to be fine. Gwendolyn was backed into a corner when she arrived home, and this has to be hard for her. None of this has been easy for Lila, so why wouldn’t it be hard for Gwendolyn, too?

  She licks her lips as she notices a small scar on Gwendolyn’s neck, right where her pulse lies under the soft skin of her neck. She follows the line of Gwendolyn’s neck to her ear. She has an earring in the tragus, a gold hoop Lila didn’t notice until now. How did she miss it? And why is it so fucking sexy? She bites her lip as she lets her eyes wander over Gwendolyn’s temple, across her forehead. Everything about her in the dim canned lighting is exquisite. Even her skin tone.

  Lila’s inferiority complex springs to life. Why the fuck would she even look twice at me?

  “Oh, for sure. It’s been forever. We’ll come to your show tonight.” Gwendolyn nudges Lila with her knee. “You game? They’re playing at Franklin House.”

  She’s not sure why, but all of a sudden, she is feeling so self-conscious. Actually, who is she trying to kid? She knows why. Gwendolyn is ravishing, and most of the time, Lila feels like a sack of potatoes. She knows she’s not, but damn. How is she supposed to feel? She needs to shake it off. Gwendolyn is clearly interested. Lila knows she should answer the question about the band with, “For sure,” and go have a good night. Bu
t she can’t seem to get the words out, so she settles on a shrug. A fucking shrug. Great, Lila. Just great.

  “Wait a second.”

  Lila looks at Matthew. “Yes?”

  “Ahh, okay,” he says with a grin. “Nice.”

  “What?” Gwendolyn looks between them.

  “You two.” He motions to them. “I like it. You look good together.”

  “No, no, no.” Gwendolyn waves, all the while pressing her leg against Lila’s. Talk about mixed signals. “We’re only friends. She’s kind of like, well…” Gwendolyn laughs. “I mean, we’re not sisters, but like…”

  “No, I get it. You’re playing on the same team.” He nods. “That’s hot.”

  Lila wants to crawl under the bar and die. “Matthew, dear, would you please get me another margarita?” The grin he gives her makes the desire to die even stronger. When he leaves, Lila turns. “He hit on me. I said I was meeting a girl. Not to, like, say we were dating, but because I wanted to tell him I’m not available, and he didn’t get it, so I had to explain—”

  “Hey,” Gwendolyn says softly as she places a hand on Lila’s knee. Lila can’t help but look down at her rounded nails, the black polish without a single chip, the thick gold band on her forefinger. “Hey,” she says again, and Lila pulls herself out of the fog which has entrenched her brain. “I get it. It’s okay.”

  “Yeah, but you were all, ‘no, no, no,’ so I didn’t want you to think I told him we were dating—”

  “You are adorable.”

  Lila knows her mouth is open. She wishes she could control her body’s response to the compliment better, but it’s becoming more and more apparent that she has no control at all when it comes to Gwendolyn Carter.

  “Go with me to listen to some live music. Okay?”

  Lila tilts her head. “What if this doesn’t go well?”

  “I have a feeling it’s going to be fine.”

  “Oh, do you?”

  Gwendolyn nods, looks as if she was going to say something, but “Machowicz, party of two,” is being called from the front of the restaurant. “That’s us.”

  As Gwendolyn shimmies behind the people crowding the bar, she glances at Lila and winks.

  Maybe it’s a date after all.

  * * *

  Lila Machowicz is so much fun. Well, once she loosens up anyway. Lila was wound so tightly, Gwendolyn was worried she would be a giant stick-in-the-mud. Was it the margaritas? Was it the great conversation? Who knows? All Gwendolyn can focus on, aside from Lila’s amazing body in that adorable black sundress, is her fantastic laugh, which is full-bodied and lovely. Each time she laughs, she leans her head back and exposes her neck, and Gwendolyn has to remind herself that nothing, absolutely nothing, can happen. But oh, how she wants something to happen.

  Jesus. Pull yourself together, Gwen. Stop. Stop. Stop.

  The tacos are delicious, which is also a great part of the night. Lila was spot-on when she said Ricochet was one of the best places in town. The ambiance is awesome. Great lighting, trendy hipster music, laid-back waitstaff. Lila picked a winner for sure.

  Gwendolyn picks up her margarita and watches as Lila continues a story about playing volleyball in college. She’s holding a steak taco in her right hand, and her left is moving through the air as she speaks. She’s so into her story, and Gwendolyn feels bad because she has barely heard a word. Her attention has been on Lila’s eyes, her smile, the way she takes a bite, chews, chews, chews, covers her mouth with her free hand, and continues going on and on about the Sweet Sixteen and the Final Four and how much she loved every second of college ball. Hearing her so excited is a lot of fun because up until now, every conversation has been laced with underlying tension.

  Tension which is not Lila’s fault. Gwendolyn knows this and wants to admit it. She has caused the uneasiness. She’s the one who came in, guns blazing, jealous and rude and filled with stupid rage and angst. All of the emotions and feelings are not Lila’s fault. At all.

  She needs to come clean. She needs to tell Lila everything, including how remarkable and special she is.

  Gwen…stop…you need to stop.

  “It was the highlight of my volleyball career. Even after going to state all those times with Carol, I…” She pauses. She’s staring at the last bite of taco. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Gwendolyn leans forward. “You feel bad you get to coach with my mother, and I don’t?” Lila’s face falls, and Gwendolyn feels bad for trying to make a joke. “I’m kidding. Lila, I’m kidding. I swear to God. That was poor comedic timing.”

  “Um, yes, that was awful.” Lila laughs. “You dick.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Lila drops the rest of the taco and wipes her hands on her napkin. “May I say something?”

  Gwendolyn rolls her eyes. “What did I tell you about that?”

  “Ugh, sorry. It’s a habit. I always ask my students if I may say something when we have our one-on-one meetings.”

  “While it’s very nice of you, I am not your student. Although I’d let you teach me a thing or two.” Gwen! Stop!

  “Oh?”

  “Another poorly timed joke,” Gwendolyn says as she forces herself to laugh. She wants to kick herself for attempting to flirt with this woman. She should not be trying at all and definitely not while drinking margaritas. Tequila is not her friend. And she shouldn’t be trying to be smooth while drinking tequila. Being stupid and jumping into bed with Lila will ruin every single thing, and she needs to remember that.

  “I’m sure I could teach you a thing or two.”

  Gwendolyn brings her full attention back. Lila’s left eyebrow is arched, her cheeks are a lovely shade of pink, and the way she’s holding her drink makes every fiber in Gwendolyn’s being come to life. The guilt isn’t nearly enough to cause her to listen to her conscience when it tells her once again to stop. “You’re going with me to Franklin House, right?”

  “I am. Yes.” Lila’s sheepish smile is too much to handle.

  She has to tear her eyes away in order to find her mental footing. She wets her lips and takes a deep breath, hoping a couple of seconds of centering herself will help.

  “Do people know you’re a lesbian?”

  That question is enough to snap Gwendolyn out of her small but necessary freak out. “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, it’s general knowledge, right?”

  Gwendolyn feels herself sit straighter, not because she’s super uncomfortable, even though she is. More because she is completely thrown. Is it general knowledge? It probably is, but she has never said it out loud in Vale Park. Not since the first time. “Yes.” Gwendolyn shrugs. “Is it weird if I say my sexuality is not something I normally discuss?”

  “No, not at all.” Lila leans forward, pushes the plates away from the edge of the table, and rests her folded arms. “You can talk to me about whatever happened. I hope you know I will always listen.”

  “Not gonna happen.” Gwendolyn shakes her head slowly. “I don’t talk about it. Unless you’re my therapist.”

  “I could be your therapist.”

  “I don’t mean massage therapist,” Gwendolyn says with a sly smile. “Although…”

  Lila leans her head back and laughs. “You really are a smooth operator, aren’t you?”

  “Sometimes.” Gwendolyn folds her arms and mimics Lila’s position. “Can we please get out of here before I say something really stupid?”

  “I doubt anything you say would be stupid.” Lila blinks her eyes once, slowly, and licks her lips.

  Gwendolyn wants to lean across the table and kiss her so badly, but she can’t. She shouldn’t. She won’t. “I want to kiss you.” Dammit, Gwen…

  “I know.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to.”

  “We shouldn’t.”

  “No, we really shouldn’t.” Lila adjusts her arms and picks up her drink. As she drinks it, she keeps their eyes locked.

  And all Gwendo
lyn can do is imagine how amazing it would be to be that glass, that ice, that tequila, against those full pink lips.

  * * *

  The inside of Franklin House is a total dive, but it is the place to be on a Friday or Saturday night and most definitely when there’s a good band playing. Tonight is no exception. The place is packed to the brim.

  The bouncer tells them it’s standing room only, and Gwendolyn asks if that’s okay before they head inside. Lila makes herself agree because if they leave, she is going to fuck Gwendolyn, and there is no way a drunken night of sex will end well.

  They need to keep their distance. They need to focus on Carol, on being there for her, on the third and hopefully final round of chemo which starts in two weeks.

  They maneuver through the crowd, going up a set of steps Lila has drunkenly tripped over more times than she wants to admit. She lets Gwendolyn squeeze between two guys to order drinks. She figures why not let her use her star power to their advantage. Lila accepts a vodka, soda, and lime. The fact that Gwendolyn remembered from the other night is not lost on her. And it makes her feel as if she’s a lovesick high schooler. Gwendolyn remembering a simple drink isn’t really impressive. If she remembered a Harvey Wallbanger or an extra dirty martini with blue cheese stuffed olives or something completely out there, that would be impressive.

  It’s a vodka, soda, lime, Lila. Get the fuck out of your heart and start thinking with your head.

  Lila slides into a small spot against the wall near the steps, between Gwendolyn and the pull-tab dispenser. She presses her hip into the dispenser as hard as possible, not wanting to get any closer to Gwendolyn. She sips her drink because even though every part of her wants to down it, she should be drinking water right now instead of moving from one liquor to another. But her nerves are shot. She is on edge and on the verge of doing something really fucking stupid. She hopes the vodka makes her sloppy enough that whatever she tries, it ends with her falling flat on her face. The embarrassment would be far better than leaping into a compromising position with her second mother’s daughter.

  Carol’s daughter. Fuck.