Chapter Text
Raelle shouldn’t be in awe, but she was. She knew Bellweathers never settled for anything less than the absolute best. Abigail has annoyingly repeated this motto over the course of their decades long friendship. Under normal circumstances, Raelle ignored her best friend’s elitist attitude, but today isn’t a normal day.
It’s Abigail Bellweather’s wedding day.
As a bridesmaid, Raelle was herded into the private staging area for the pre-ceremonial routines. A room that should be a glorified locker room, but was more akin to something Louis the XVI would have loved. Since her arrival thirty minutes ago, Raelle remains motionless along the perimeter too afraid of getting a spec of dirt on the intricately patterned carpets. Around her, the room buzzes with frantic energy. Bridesmaids meticulously apply makeup and adjust hair dos while staff members dart about, disappearing with flower arrangements and silver trays carrying hors d’oeuvres.
The atmosphere is a breeding ground for anxiety. As if Raelle didn’t need another reason to be a bundle of nerves. Thankfully, Abigail is nowhere in sight and Tally is too absorbed with sculpting the perfect updo. Raelle decides to take advantage of her wallflower status and slowly migrates to the corner furthest from the chaos. From there, she gazes out the closest floor length window, taking in the serenity of Napa Valley.
A sense of newly forming nostalgia settles as Raelle traces the increasingly familiar vineyards and hint of civilization off in the distance. She recognizes the cluster of concrete buildings as the same town that hosted the bachelor and bachelorette party last night…
Even waking this morning, it all felt too good to be true. Like her vivid memories from last night are a perfect dream. Raelle could live a thousand lives and still never forget last night. She shivers from the memory.
After a moment of pleasant reverie, Raelle refocuses on the present, watching the employees in starch white button downs, black slacks and cummerbunds—yes, cummerbunds, diligently decorate the backyard. Soon a high arched, canvas canopy takes center stage in the manicured lawn along with rows of white folding chairs. It’s breathtaking. Romantic. Perfect for a Bellweather wedding.
A round of applause off to the left pulls Raelle’s attention. She follows the sound, spotting Charvel hovering over Khalida’s shoulder. “Bravo, Kai!” Charvel booms across the room, clearly pleased with the stylist's work. The five foot flat androgynous dream boat with spiky blue hair and bold wing tipped eyeliner grins while finishing Khalida’s eye shadow.
Raelle chuckles in relief. Despite this being THE BIG DAY, Charvel has been surprisingly calm throughout the morning. Sure, her trusty clipboard is basically a new appendage. That’s par for the course. In fact, Raelle has a friendly wager running with Abigail that Charvel sleeps with it under her pillow. A fact no one is brave enough to confirm with their own eyes. Sleeping habits aside, Charvel is the type of person that was born to be in charge. Raelle briefly wonders if Charvel will miss her maid of honor duties once this is all over.
“Let me see!” Khalida huffs, twisting out of Kai’s grasp and leaning halfway out of her seat. “Wow!” Khalida marvels, eyes widening in awe, “I look like a princess.” The look of wonder on Khalida’s face is bright enough to light the cavernous room. Kai preens, not bothering to conceal their self-satisfaction, “When the canvas is this beautiful it makes my job easy.”
“If it’s so easy, you wouldn’t charge a small fortune.” Charvel grumbles. With knitted brows, she scours the clipboard, “Next up is…. Oh, it’s my turn.” Kai politely ushers Khalida out of the seat of honor to make room for Charvel, but before Kai can touch a single lock of hair, a booming pop echoes through the room. Furious, Charvel swivels 180 degrees, nearly knocking Kai fully off balance. All the color drains from Charvel’s face as she shrieks in horror, “Abigail!”
Raelle pivots, spotting the soon to be bride holding a bottle overflowing with golden bubbles that were gracelessly dripping onto the carpet and Abigail’s clothing. Abigail laughs lightly, “Relax, cuz. I’m not getting married in this.” She gestures to her white T-shirt with the word “Bride” in golden loopy script, black tights, and white fuzzy slippers that say “MY” and “DAY” on the right and left foot, respectively. “Thank the Goddess.” Charvel sighs, slumping back into her seat much to Kai’s relief.
Abigail approaches with a flute of champagne. “A toast seemed appropriate to get this party started.” She says handing the drink to Charvel. “Relax. You earned it. Everything is perfect.” The creases between Charvel’s brows disappear at the compliment and the entire room relaxes with her. She accepts the champagne, clinking glasses with her cousin and declares, “We’re Bellweathers. Perfection is in our blood.” Abigail beams while Raelle refrains from rolling her eyes.
The boasting isn’t unfounded. Everything is running smoothly today. Abigail resembles an actual Goddess. Her hair is twisted into a crown above her head, threaded with intricate braids. Kai applied a light layer of makeup, just enough to make her dazzle. “Just wait until I’m in my wedding dress.” Abigail teases, evening throwing in a wink. Charvel returns the playful grin, “I hope Adil can handle it.” They laugh lightly before taking hearty swigs of champagne.
Afterwards, Abigail hosts the champagne bottle above her head and exclaims, “Let the celebration of the century begin!” With the Bride and Maid of Honor’s stamps of approval, the true festivities begin. The once quiet murmur of the bridal party escalates into semi-rowdy merriment as champagne flows freely. Raelle weaves through the party until she finds her friends. From the look of things, Abigail and Tally are in the middle of a heated debate.
“Hey guys.” Raelle squeaks, eyes darting between her friends, “am I interrupting something?” Awkward silence lingers for a beat while both friends stare her down. Then in the next heartbeat, they simultaneously answer.
“No”
“Yes”
Raelle’s gaze darts between them, careful not to choose sides. Abigail exhales, reaching for Tally’s shoulder. “Seriously, I love you, but I cannot handle the details of your love life when it involves my boss.”
Tally pouts for a second before turning to Raelle. The most wicked smile in history blooms across her face. “Guess I’ll just tell my other bestie.” Raelle swallows, mustering a quick, “Can’t wait!” while Tally bounces after the closet waiter circling the room with champagne. She quickly returns with three flutes, passing them out, then holding her own into the space between them.
“To the best Bride and her bestest friends!” Tally bellows, “We love you Abigail!”
“Here, here!” Raelle echoes. The trio clinks glasses, then takes hearty swigs. After the toast, Tally insists on taking an obligatory Unit selfie, claiming “If it’s not on Insta, it didn’t happen.” Raelle rolled her eyes so hard in the moment, but in hindsight she’s glad the memory was captured.
Supportive friends like Abigail and Tally are rare. Remembering once in a lifetime moments like your best friend’s wedding was the reason humans invented photography in the first place. In Raelle’s opinion, only one thing could make this moment truly perfect, sharing it with Scylla. As if on cue, her phone vibrates. Raelle fishes the device out of her pocket. “Speak of the devil.” She mutters, swiping open the most recent text.
Scylla 13:03: Have I told you how good you look in that suit?
Raelle 13:03: You have… and I like when you say it [winking emoji]
Scylla 13:04: Then I’ll say it again, you look REALLY good in that suit [fire emoji]
Raelle’s grin doubles.
Scylla 13:04: Thank Tally on my behalf for the visual
Raelle 13:05 : I’m sure that’s just that start of Tally’s INSTA posts for today
Scylla 13:05: The photos are nice, but I’d rather see the real deal [eyeball emoji]
Raelle 13:05 : You can stare at me in person all you want once the ceremony begins
Scylla 13:06 : That’s hours from now [pouty face emoji]
The idea of Scylla pouting impatiently sends a thrill through Raelle. It conjures the vivid image of Scylla’s plump bottom lip sculpted into the perfect pout. So soft, so very biteable… Raelle takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart before replying.
Raelle 13:06: At least you have this pic to remember me
Scylla 13:06: I’ll cherish it forever [heart emoji]
Raelle’s heart somersaults beneath her ribcage. She still can’t believe how easy it is to flirt with Scylla. It’s effortless, euphoric. It’s something they should have been doing from the moment they met. It pains Raelle to think of all the time wasted, all the years denying how she really felt, and all the words left unspoken. Now that everything's out in the open, Raelle is determined to keep it that way.
Raelle 13:07 : I’d love to reciprocate the forever cherishing, but I have no idea what you’re wearing [sad face emoji]
Scylla 13:07 : Show or tell?
Raelle 13:07 : Show.
Raelle 13:08 : For equality and all [mischievous smirking face emoji]
Scylla 13:09: Well, if it’s for equality…
Equality didn’t prepare Raelle for the image that popped up on her screen. An image that could only be described as drop dead gorgeous. Literally.
All the air sucked out of the room along with the deep breath Raelle took as she processed in the image of Scylla dressed to the nines. Smokey eyes stare into the depths of her soul. The perfect combination of confidence and alluring. Coupled with a ruby red smirk that brings a flush to Raelle’s cheeks.
Raelle traces Scylla’s neckline, blushing deeper as it dips low . Dark green fabric crests over voluptuous curves. The color contrasts perfectly with Scylla’s alabaster skin. Because Scylla was posing in front of a mirror, phone aimed high at a flattering angle, Raelle is rewarded with a majestic backside view.
She involuntarily squeezes the phone, wishing her hands were holding Scylla instead.
Scylla 13:14: Why so quiet? Cat got your tongue [winking emoji]
There is a very different type of cat Raelle would like to get her tongue on at this moment. A fact she is so consumed by it impairs her cognitive function. She types and erases, types and erases. At a loss for words. Finally, she settles on the unfiltered truth, too flustered for anything else.
Raelle 13:16 : Not to be a lesbian but… holy fucking shit, good goddess above, fucking shit, omg fucking goddess [blonde woman kneeling emoji] [fire emoji] [panting emoji] [fire emoji]
Scylla 13:16 : Guess I picked the right dress [blushing emoji]
Raelle 13:16 : Does the zipper work?
Scylla 13:16: Wanna find out?
Raelle 13:16: More than anything.
Behind closed eyes, Raelle’s imagination runs rampant. Unzipping the dress, successfully. Newly revealed silky skin. Watching goosebumps emerge as she explores with eager fingers. Kisses, nibbles. The sounds of Scylla’s enthusiastic sighs echo in her mind. Raelle drains the champagne to calm her thundering heart, but the alcohol rushes straight to her head.
Raelle 13:18: This is torture
Scylla 13:19: Can’t you take a break?
Raelle 13:19: Bellweathers don’t know the meaning of that word
Scylla 13:21: Not even to use the bathroom?
Scylla 13:22: More specifically, the communal one just outside the room you’re currently in?
Raelle pictures it, maps it out. The phone vibrates again.
Scylla 13:33: I’ll be taking a break in that very location in five minutes [winky face emoji]
Exactly three minutes, two flutes of champagne, and one warning from Charvel not to wander too far away later, Raelle bolts for the bathroom. True to form, the guest bathroom is just as immaculate as the rest of the wedding venue. A quick scan reveals at least five private stalls. All of which lack the absurd 3 inch gap at the hinges custom to way too many American bathroom stalls. This detail alone screams fancy .
There is no sign of Scylla and Raelle isn’t desperate enough to knock on the stalls, so she moves towards one of the oval mirrors above the sinks to freshen up. As Raelle fiddles with a few flyaways, she hears a toilet flush and door unlock. At first, she thinks nothing of it, too consumed with taming her hair, but then…
“Getting ready for a hot date?”
Raelle shivers. She’d know that sultry voice anywhere. Raelle breathes through her racing heart as Scylla sidles up next to her. Then proceeds to wash her hands in the adjacent sink. “Your date is a lucky lady.” Scylla says, low enough for only Raelle to hear. It’s so intimate, Raelle feels like they are the only two people in the entire world.
On instinct, Raelle looks up, catching Scylla’s eyeline in the mirror. Scylla winks. Emboldened, Raelle fights the overwhelming urge to smile. Instead, she flirts back.
“If you knew my date,” Raelle starts, sneaking behind Scylla and leaning in close enough to whisper along her neck up towards her ear, “then you’d know I’m the lucky one.” When she’s finished, Raelle quickly glances up, taking a second to appreciate Scylla’s smoldering gaze, before she presses a single kiss just beneath Scylla’s ear lobe. Raelle never breaks eye contact, too captivated by the storm brewing in those heart stopping blue eyes.
“Tell me about her.” Scylla whispers. The neediness in that sentence tugs at Raelle’s heartstrings. She kisses Scylla again, lower along her neck. Thrilling at the sharp intake of breath Scylla takes. “Tell you about who?” Raelle asks, conjuring as much innocence as possible into the question. In response Scylla leans back against her chest and gently breathes along Raelle’s jawline “Your date.”
Raelle’s hands gravitate to Scylla’s waist and slowly trail forward along her stomach, thankful the thin fabric of Scylla’s dress leaves little to the imagination. “She’s the kind of woman who brightens every room.” Raelle says, guiding Scylla backward. One step, then two. Raelle continues, peppering kisses between each word. “She’s kind, intelligent, funny.” Then gently rotates Scylla until they are face to face.
“When she looks at me the world stops spinning.” Raelle holds Scylla’s gaze for a beat longer as if to emphasize her point, “It only lasts for a few seconds,” when in reality, Raelle needs those precious seconds for the earth to reorient. After, she rests their forehead together and closes her eyes, “but it’s enough time for my heart to skip an extra beat.”
Time passes in the silence that follows. Measured by the breaths ghosting against her lips. There is no hurry to move on. No hurry for anything else. This moment is everything. Scylla is everything.
After a while, Scylla mutters in a small, breathless voice, “She sounds perfect.” A slight tug at the base of Raelle’s neck draws her attention down to the fingers fiddling with her tie. At a quick glance, Raelle notices Scylla is fixated on her own hands.
“She is perfect.” Raelle amends. The intensity of her statement breaks Scylla’s focus from the tie. Bright blue eyes snap up, widening in awe before she replies, “You better hold onto her.”
Scylla’s response sits between them as silence settles. There was something in the way Scylla searched her eyes that told Raelle this wasn’t a game anymore. She tightens her grip on Scylla’s waist, drawing them impossibly closer. “I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” Raelle whispers into the breath of space between them.
In the next heartbeat, Scylla yanks the tie, pulling Raelle into a searing kiss. Somewhere in between hungry lips, tangled tongues, and groping hands, Raelle loses control. She yields to Scylla, letting Scylla blindly push her backwards into the room, pivots hard to the left guiding them into an empty stall, and shoves Raelle back into the wall. They part long enough for Scylla to lock the door. The sound reverberates in Raelle’s core. A promise of what’s to come.
They were completely alone and Raelle was never more thankful for a lack of peeping gaps. Scylla’s smoldering expression heightens Raelle’s anticipation. In this moment, Scylla could ask for just about anything and Raelle would gladly give it to her. Raelle smirks briefly before Scylla reattaches their mouths. They are lip locked for so long Raelle’s lungs burn, but who needs oxygen when she has this .
After a time Scylla pulls back, panting against Raelle’s lips. “Just to be clear, I am your date.”
“Yes, you are.”
“And as your date, I want you to hold onto me… for a long time. Forever, maybe.”
Raelle’s eyebrows tick upward. “Hold onto you how, exactly?”
Scylla’s brows furrow slightly. Raelle almost misses it, but she keeps going desperate for this sexy game to continue. Scylla’s mouth parts as if to say something, but Raelle quickly kisses her, stealing the unspoken words on the tip of Scylla’s tongue. After, she pivots, leaving a trail of kisses along Scylla’s jawline. “Don’t tell me.” Raelle’s drops her hands, cupping Scylla’s ass and says, “I’ll hold you in all the ways,” she squeezes and Scylla takes a sharp breath while instinctively rolling her hips forward, “and you let me know which one is to your liking.”
While Scylla is distracted by her hands, Raelle flips their positions, pinning Scylla against the wall. She leans fully into Scylla, minimizing as much space as possible. Then she slips a thigh between Scylla’s legs and slowly lifts until Scylla sighs. Fingernails dig deliciously into the back of her shoulders. Emboldened, Raelle releases her grip and brackets Scylla with both hands flat on the wall.
“Does it count as holding,” Raelle teases, “if I don’t use my hands?” She rocks her hips, until Scylla’s breaths are ragged. “Raelle.” Her name drips from Scylla’s lips like nectar. “You’re right.” Raelle purrs, dropping her voice dangerously low. Low just like her hands which are on Scylla once again, descending lazily along the insides of Scylla’s thighs. “Hands are so much better.”
“Raelle.” Scylla repeats, more desperate than before. Just before her fingers connect with the hem of Scylla’s dress, Raelle kisses her, long and deep. Scylla melts into her, hands finding the back of Raelle’s neck and tugging, hard . Raelle makes quick work underneath the dress, slipping strategic fingers beneath a light layer of lace. Raelle makes a mental note to check out whatever these tantalizing panties are before she strokes Scylla slowly from entrance to clit. Great Goddess she feels divine.
“Fuck, Rae.” Scylla grumbles, sounding slightly frustrated.
“Hmm.” Raelle teases, repeating the motion, “Did you say, fuck me?” She swirls two sticky fingers until Scylla tips her head back and moans. Raelle smiles triumphantly, “With pleasure.” Her fingers pivot, ready to—
“Wait.”
Raelle freezes. “Sorry, I, uh.” Panic creeps into Raelle’s voice, worried she misread something. She readies herself to pull away, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay, I—” Soft lips swallow her words.
Raelle relaxes into the tender kiss. Eventually, Scylla pulls back and pants, “Raelle, please wait.” Scylla closes her eyes, trying to catch her breath.
“Okay.” Raelle says softly.
They stay in silence for a short while, breathing and being. Eventually, Scylla meets her gaze. “Before we go any further,” Scylla starts, “there is something I need to know.” Her blue eyes pierce into Raelle’s soul. She’s never felt more exposed while fully clothed in her entire life. Raelle nods, too afraid to speak. “If we are going to do this , I don’t want to keep anything from you,” Scylla continues, “intentional or otherwise, and I don’t want the same from you either.”
“Me either.” Raelle whispers.
Scylla nods. Raelle watches the bob of her neck as she swallows. Sensing Scylla’s sudden unease, Raelle asks, “Is everything okay?”
“I hope so.” Scylla mumbles.
“What?”
“What I said earlier, about wanting you to hold onto me… what I mean is…” Scylla sighs heavily, “Fuck it. I want to be your date for all the dates. I want to be the person you hold in all the ways. I want to be your girlfriend, officially.”
Girlfriend… Official girlfriends. Raelle’s mind leap frogs possibilities. Telling friends and family, which they kind of already did…
Moving in and living together, which they already do…
Getting engaged and marr—
“So, am I?” Scylla asks. The sharp question cuts off Raelle’s line of thought.
“Huh?”
Scylla huffs, “Am I your girlfriend?”
“Yes.” Raelle says automatically.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, let’s date. Let’s be girlfriends. Everything, all of it.” The words seem to pour out of Raelle faster than she can say them, leaving her breathless. She pauses to quell the burning in her lungs, leaning her forehead against Scylla’s. “Deep down,” Raelle admits softly, “I’ve always wanted you. Since the first day I met you. A part of me knew then that you were special.”
“I love you.” Scylla whispers.
“I love you too.” Raelle replies before kissing her, slow and deep.
“Now, girlfriend,” Raelle thrills at Scylla’s use of her new title, “continue.”
“Continue, what?”
Scylla rocks forward into her strategically placed hand, “ Holding me.”
An animalistic noise crescendos in the back of Raelle’s throat, quickly swallowed by a searing kiss. With her free hand, Raelle scrambles for the zipper on the back of Scylla’s dress. Metal grinding on metal sings a sweet symphony as the fabric opens. “It works.” Raelle gasps in wonder. Her fingers tease soft skin at the base of Scylla’s neck and trail behind the opening seam, tracing each dip and valley of Scylla’s spine.
Raelle detaches from Scylla’s mouth and pivots along her chin, leaving a trail of light kisses along her jawline. With the zipper undone, the fabric of Scylla’s dress slackens, yielding just enough for Raelle to free the black bra strap from Scylla’s shoulder. She slips it off Scylla’s shoulder letting it dangle uselessly along her bicep. She quickly explores this new expanse of skin. Kissing down Scylla’s slender neck, pausing to nip that perfect collarbone, reveling in the way Scylla’s hips roll forward when she does. A pleading gasp escapes Scylla’s swollen lips. The sound reverberates in Raelle’s bones, egging her on.
Her lips keep moving, descending onto a newly exposed breast with all the hunger of a starving animal. The last kiss is strategic and slow. The delicate, pink flesh pebbles against her lips. Nails scratch along Raelle’s scalp, encouraging her to continue. She does, replacing lips with tongue. Swirling. Pressing. Flicking. When she’s satisfied, Raelle pulls back, breathing a steady stream of cool air onto the thoroughly worshipped nipple.
Scylla sighs, tilting her head slightly back against the wall, revealing even more unclaimed skin. Raelle is drawn to that slender neck like a magnet. Leaving an open-mouthed kiss just below the earlobe, then husks, “For the record, this is not our first date.” While she speaks, Raelle’s free hand, the one not currently fisted in luscious curls, hikes up the green dress until there is enough space to wedge a leg in between parted thighs. Raelle rocks forward, and Scylla grinds down. A natural rhythm develops.
Breathes become ragged. Dampness seeps through the thin fabric of Raelle’s slacks right where it meets Scylla. An overwhelming urge to taste the source makes Raelle’s mouth water. She groans just thinking about it, pushing harder into Scylla, inadvertently testing the limits of the stall’s hinges. Fingers dig into her waist, clinging for dear life and before Raelle can take another breath, desperate lips find hers. At the same time, the fingers gripping her waist for dear life slacken. Raelle just barely registers it, too consumed with Scylla’s mouth and tongue and heat .
All she can do is feel and exist in this bliss with Scylla. A firm tug at her waist followed by a release of pressure along her hips and then—
“Fuck, Scyl.”
Raelle tries to regain focus— try being the operative word, but fails miserably the moment Scylla’s fingers slowly tease every inch of sensitive skin. “Don’t mind if I do, too.” Raelle can hear the satisfied grin as Scylla husks against her lips. Her body stills. Every nerve buzzes with anticipation.
Raelle slams her eyelids shut, hoping the lack of visual distractions will help her keep pace with Scylla’s wicked touch. “Good.” Raelle sighs heavily in tune with the finger pad circling her clit, “Because…” Raelle trails off, lost in the heavenly swirling of that wonderful, wicked finger. Without warning Scylla thrusts her hips forward, pressing harder into Raelle. Stars burst behind her eyelids and Raelle swallows, hard.
“B-because.” Raelle blurts out while she can, “I need you to…” The swirling starts up again at a faster pace, derailing that thought. Raelle takes a deep, gasping breath and opens her eyes. Blue eyes greet her. Stormy and focused. “What do you need?” Scylla askes through parted pink lips.
Scylla is so fucking beautiful it hurts— throbs, actually, right underneath Scylla’s circling digits. Desire intensifies to an unbearable degree. Raelle tries to speak, but the words die in the back of her throat, transforming into a needy moan as Scylla continues. At a loss for the ability to speak, Raelle acts instead, grabbing Scylla’s wrist and moving it lower and lower.
“You.” Raelle tries again, guiding two fingers inside along her entrance, “I need you.”
Without another word, Scylla finishes what Raelle started and pushes inside. “Like that?” Scylla asks, breath ghosting the shell of Raelle’s ear. Raelle tugs Scylla’s waist into her, rolls her hips simultaneously. Relieved when Scylla’s fingers sink in further. “More.” Raelle rocks again, sliding up and down, “So much more of you.” It’s soft and desperate and true. So fucking true.
Scylla kisses her slowly. Deliberately. All the while, building a steady tempo that rattles Raelle’s knees and clears her mind of every thought, except. “I need you, Scylla. Only you.”
Raelle isn’t truly sure if her euphoric rambling is only about sex. Afterall, her hormones took control the moment she flew into this stall. Whatever the sentiment, Scylla runs with it, kissing the last thought from Raelle’s mind. Raelle feels a hand along her hip guiding her back and to the right, stopping when a cool hard surface meets her back. The new angle gives Scylla more leverage. It puts Scylla in control.
Pressure builds, bubbling like an inflating balloon. Scylla adds another finger and quickens the pace. The edges of the balloon strain with each thrust, the pressure becoming too much to contain. Raelle welcomes it, needs the pressure to release—
Three quick raps at the adjacent stall followed by an inquisitive, “Raelle?” brings everything to a crashing halt. “Are you in here?” The voice asks again, this time close enough for Raelle to make out the owner.
“H-hey Khalida. I’m just umm… finishing up.” Scylla softly chuckles at the choice of words and Raelle presses two fingers to her lips to quiet her. “Great!” Khalida continues, like everything about this was totally normal. “You’re up next for hair and makeup. I’ll let Charvel and Kai know you’re on your way.”
Raelle doesn’t move a muscle. Doesn’t dare take another breath until the door exiting the bathroom closes shut. She breathes through the war drums pounding her rib cage.
But then—
Scylla’s fingers move, inflating the imaginary balloon once again. “Better hurry.” Scylla husks.
“That’s not fair.” Raelle grumbles, “There isn’t enough time for me to take care of you too.”
“I got what I wanted.” Scylla says, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “I got you.”
There is something in the way Scylla says it that Raelle feels the truth of words deep in her bones. This statement is about so much more than physical intimacy, but she was so close before the interruption and was a goner soon after the words were spoken that she didn’t have time to dwell. The balloon blissfully pops with Scylla pressed against her, three knuckles deep, breathing hot and heavy against her neck and Raelle feels it. Every nail scrape, desperate kiss, words unspoken. All of it .
And it lasts.
She tingles while making herself decent, casting coy smiles at Scylla. They part with a quick kiss and it feels more like a promise than a press of lips. Duty bound, Raelle rejoins the bridesmaids in a euphoric daze, barely hearing Charvel scold her for being late or whatever. Instead, Raelle hears Scylla’s sweet declaration echo through her mind on a loop.
I got what I wanted. I got you.
Raelle’s grin doubles at the memory, so lost in thought she barely registers Kai ushering her into the swivel chair. They do a quick lap, scrutinizing every inch of her appearance, then huff. “You must be very confident in my abilities because clearly you just rolled out of bed.” A quick glance in the mirror reveals a complete disaster. Her hair is in disarray. Her once pristine suit is now crumpled. Raelle doesn’t want to tell them it’s because of Scylla’s hands. Those magical hands.
Raelle suppresses a shiver.
To their credit, Kai is a genius. They make quick work of transforming her back into something presentable. While they work, Raelle zones out. All thoughts consumed by Scylla. Smart, beautiful, perfect, Scylla. Her girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
The word sounds so sweet, even in her thoughts. A satisfied grin tugs at the corner of Raelle’s lips. Kai must notice because they comment, “Yes, I am talented.” They tug Raelle up into a standing position. Then proceed to expertly remove the last, stubborn crinkles from her formerly manhandled suit. When it’s done, Raelle appraises herself in the mirror. Of all things, this is what makes it sink in. The erasure of all evidence of her escapades with Scylla.
But Raelle knows deep in her memories, both neurons and myocytes, that her and Scylla did happen.
All of it really happened.
When it’s over, Kai shoos Raelle away, turning their attention to the next bridesmaid on Charvel’s list. Once she is out of the stylist’s spotlight, Raelle retreats to a quiet corner and scrolls through her messages with Scylla, losing track of time.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Raelle looks up, meeting Abigail’s inquisitive glare. Her best friend towers over her with one hand on her hip. “Like what?” Raelle counters, quickly pocketing the phone.
“Like it’s your big special day.” Tally teases, popping into view from behind Abigail. Abigail huffs halfheartedly, “I shouldn’t have to remind both of you that it’s my big day.” She homes in on Raelle, narrowing her eyes, “And you know how I feel about sharing.”
“Sharing is caring.” Tally pipes in with a triumphant grin. Abigail rolls her eyes in faux annoyance before fixing Raelle with a pointed stare. “For real though, what’s up with you? You were late this morning— don’t shake your head Tally, I’m busy but not busy enough to lose track of you shitbirds.”
Panic floods Raelle’s system. Somehow, telling her friends the truth feels more overwhelming than anything else. She takes a deep breath before responding, “Scylla and I got together.” She watches intently as her friends absorb that information. When she is met with blank stares, Raelle continues, “Like together , together. That’s why I was MIA last night and this morning… and ten minutes ago.”
Realization dawns on her best friends’ faces. Tally squeals at the same time Abigail sighs, “Finally.” And with that, Raelle releases a pent up breath. Relief replacing anxiety. “Because you’re so happy,” Abigail continues, “I will let it slide that you were getting it on in the middle of my wedding.”
Abigail leans in, bumping shoulders with Raelle, “Love you too.” Raelle mumbles.Tally’s eyes widen with realization. “Does that mean you’re officially together?” Raelle smiles, remembering Scylla’s declaration.
I got you.
The late afternoon sun beats down on the cloth canopy, bathing the happy couple in a soft golden glow. It’s a wedding most fairytale heroines would be envious of. Adil and Abigail beam, hands clasped together as they prepare to share their vows. Each word is spoken in earnest, original and proud. Confirming what everyone already knew that these two are a match made by the Great Goddess herself.
During the vows, Scylla caught Raelle’s eyes more than once, holding her gaze as the professions of undying love resonate deeply. For decades, Scylla denied herself from her true feelings for Raelle. But over the last few days, Scylla has fully accepted how she feels. It’s love, pure and simple, just like Abigail and Adil’s vows. It’s hard not to relate. So, Scylla doesn’t fight it. Instead, she embraces the words as if they were about her and Raelle.
Raelle… her girlfriend.
After receiving confirmation from Raelle that they are indeed girlfriends, Scylla has failed to conceal the cheek aching smile etched onto her face. Not that she was trying that hard to stop smiling. Being honest with herself and Raelle was intoxicating. She’s never felt happier in her entire life. In fact, if she could live in this moment, locked in a heated gaze with Raelle, surrounded by friends and family, Scylla would.
She continues to hold Raelle’s focus until the crowd erupts into applause. Scylla snaps out of it, eyes darting to the cause of commotion. The bride and groom are locked in a heating kiss, sealing the marriage contract. Adil dips Abigail back, escalating the clapping crowd into hollers and hoots. The perfect ending to a perfectly romantic wedding.
With the bride and groom officially hitched, the bridal party disappears to take photos before the sunsets while Scylla is ushered into the reception hall along with the other guests. Sometime in between the start of the ceremony and “I do” the manor was transformed. The first floor resembled an enchanted garden. The scent of freshly cut flowers wafts throughout the room accompanied by arrangements of every rose species on the planet strategically placed on hand carved oak end tables, twin miniatures framing the mantle above the fireplace, to name a few. Even the lights are dimmer, establishing a cozy atmosphere.
She passes by a table with a pile of gifts the size of Mount Tamalpais. Scylla wonders if they are going to hire a moving truck to haul it back to LA. Sitting to the side is an ornate wooden box with golden accented iron work, “A&A” centered in a heart. Another ambling guest in a smart charcoal suit and salt and pepper beard wanders over to the display. He drops a fat envelope into the box before strutting towards the grand staircase. And just like that, Scylla gets her answer of how the bride and groom are going to pay for that moving truck.
A waiter whirls in front of her with a practiced flourish, extending a tray of enticing flutes filled to the brim with sparking golden liquid. Scylla takes one, returning the smile before the waiter disappears into the growing crowd. With champagne in hand, Scylla follows the flow of bodies up the curving staircase and into a sizable ballroom on the second floor. Classical music plays softly in the background among the chatter of guests sampling canapés and vintage wines. A few children occupy the dance floor, interpretively dancing to the violin solo and releasing pent up energy from sitting still during the ceremony.
After completing a full lap around the venue, Scylla exits down a quiet corridor in search of a bathroom. The hallway is lined with grand windows overlooking the grounds where the ceremony took place. Scylla pauses to take a look and spots the wedding party off in the distance taking scenic photos. Her heart skips a beat when she sees her golden-haired girlfriend.
Eventually, she hears a feminine sounding voice off in the distance. Scylla follows it, hoping its owner is engaged in idle chatter while waiting in line for the restroom. Instead of finding a bathroom around the corner, she almost walks straight into a surprising scene. She watches in stunned silence as M, down on one knee, presents Eve with a tiny black box holding a ring with a diamond the size of Jupiter.
“Babe” Eve squeals, a giant smile blooming across her face, “We talked about this. Our engagement was set for the Eiffel Tower in fall. We booked a photographer and everything.”
“I know,” M replies, undeterred and confident, “but I don’t want to wait any longer. Today was just so perfect. You’re so perfect. I want to be with you always and forever.” Eve sinks to her knees, and cups M’s hands around the box. She smiles, “Always and forever.” M leans in and kisses her.
Thankfully, M and Eve are too absorbed in their magical moment to notice Scylla. And while the moment is sweet, Scylla feels like a third wheel to what is surely a private moment. She slips back into the hallway and continues her search. A sense of peace settles in her chest. A new chapter of love and happiness is beginning, not just for her and Raelle. It seems that everyone has found their person and was able to move on from the past.
Eventually Scylla finds an unoccupied restroom, does what she needs to do, and returns to the ballroom. Almost immediately, she finds Bryon, already with a drink in hand and a smile on his face. They fall into familiar conversation and make plans for brunch in a few weeks once they return to San Francisco. Byron not so subtly reminds her he wants all the details of her escapades with Raelle. Scylla laughs to herself, knowing full well he will die once he finds out the sordid details of their bathroom rendezvous this afternoon.
Eventually, Scylla congregates with her family. Who just so happen to be catching up with the Collars. One glass of champagne turns into two. She listens and laughs along with everyone while periodically checking the ballroom for any hint of golden hair and sky blue five.
“That’s not what happened” Willa grumbles, swatting Edwin in the arm. Edwin plays it up, over exaggerating the pain in his shoulder, “I know we vowed to love each other in sickness when we got married, but this might be taking it too far.”
“I will not have my good reputation ruined by my own husband.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Demetri shrugs, “A cake is a cake.”
Willa glowers. As if sensing the impending brawl, Mia jumps in. “That’s because you’re a man.”
“Way to be sexist mom.” Tiffany grumbles.
“I am not.”
“Seemed a little sexist to me,” Scylla chimes in, unable to resist making her mother squirm, “Nowadays men can appreciate baking too.”
“Yes they can,” Mia huffs, “However, your father is not attuned to fine baking.”
“Nor my husband.” Willa adds, glowering at Edwin. He waves his hands up in surrender. “Look,” Edwin starts, “all I am saying is that I placed the order for the cake we both liked. Word for word, like we agreed.”
“No,” Willa huffs, pointing an accusing finger into the center of his chest, “What we agreed on was a three-tiered wedding cake with vanilla sponge, buttercream frosting, and strawberry filling and NOT buttercream filling and strawberry frosting.”
“The cake was delicious!”
“It was PINK!”
The table erupts into laughter drawing heads from nearby guests. Scylla bends over clutching her belly as she heaves.
“It was fun to rub the pink frosting all over your face.” Willa admits.
Edwin returns his wife’s shy glance with a grin, “I thought the strawberry kisses were the best part.” He leans in for a quick kiss. “Maybe we should renew our vows.” Willa hums.
“I do love a good wedding.” Mia adds wistfully. “Speaking of weddings.” Tiffany chimes in, turning a curious gaze towards Scylla, “When are you and Raelle getting married?”
All eyes focus on her. Heat rushes to Scylla’s face. “W-what?” Scylla stammers through the anxiety.
“Well, when people are in love, they get married,” Tiffany gestures a hand towards the married adults, “You and Raelle love each other. So, aren’t you going to get married?”
Her younger sister says this like it’s so simple. Two adults in love equals one marriage. That’s just romantic math! If their love was so easy Scylla wouldn’t have spent literal decades achieving girlfriend status. At this rate marriage would be on the table by the time they collected social security benefits.
While her thoughts spiral into oblivion, Raelle’s mother excitedly rambles, “Yes, tell us everything! Summer or fall? I do love a fall wedding. So underrated. Especially at Equinox.”
“W-well…” Scylla dumbfoundedly starts before Willa cuts her off. “Are you thinking of doing it in California or back on the east coast?”
“Oh, yes.” Mia, surprisingly, agrees, “We’ll need to plan time off from work and notify your cousins so they can do the same.”
“Exactly!” Willa adds, “We’ll need plenty of notice to secure plane tickets. Prices to travel across the country can be outrageous depending on the time of year.”
Watching her mother—HER mother, and Raelle’s plan out their wedding was like having an out of body experience. Scylla couldn’t form a coherent thought to save her life. Her emotions are a jumble of excitement and fear. She just sits there helplessly, until… a hand settles on her shoulder. Scylla cranes her neck up to look over her shoulder and sees gold and sky blue five.
“Relax mom.” Her girlfriend with impeccable timing says smoothly. “We haven’t discussed wedding specifics… yet .”
Scylla’s heart stops at that last word. Panicked, she looks to Raelle. Her girlfriend simply winks. WINKS!
“Why not?” Willa protests.
“Because mom,” Raelle calmly explains, “It’s bad luck to plan the dream wedding before you ask the woman of your dreams to marry you.”
That was the smoothest fucking thing anyone has ever said, ever . Scylla is stunned, impressed, more than a little turned on. But most of all, she’s happy to hear Raelle casually talk about a future with her. Marriage implies an us, a real, official us that lasts a lifetime.
“The girl of your dreams?” Scylla teases, but Raelle looks at her, seriously. Scylla’s heart leaps, not sure how to proceed. When Raelle leans in and kisses her, the family at the table is instantly forgotten.
“Yes, but I thought I’d start with asking you to dance, first.” In that moment, gaze locked with Raelle, Scylla’s anxieties melt away, morphing into tender bliss. Scylla takes the offered hand and lets Raelle sweep her off her feet right onto the dance floor.
Epilogue
Three Years Later…
“Pass the curry dumplings, please.”
“I’ll trade you for the taro fritters.”
“Deal.”
Raelle reaches for the fritters, swapping them for the dumplings. Then makes herself comfortable, stretching her legs, careful not to knock over any of the take-out containers scattered on top of the sizable blanket. She plucks an intact dumpling from the container in her lap and pops it into her mouth. The first bite is heaven. Perfectly spiced and still warm.
“Do you ever think you’ll get sick of this?” Scylla asks around a mouthful of taro.
“Of dumplings?” Raelle chides, “One of the most perfect foods, gifted by the Goddess herself?”
“No.” Scylla huffs, rolling her eyes. “I meant this .” She gestures to the picnic spread and the rows of perfectly pruned roses surrounding them. Raelle’s smile widens, eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’ll never grow tired of recreating our first date.”
Raelle looks forward to their yearly tradition. Especially on a beautiful day like today. Karl the fog was currently hanging out across the bay in Oakland, gifting the San Francisco residents a rare sunny day. The Golden Gate Park was warm and not too crowded, just like their first date. Perfect, just like Scylla described it five years ago, before they were even dating.
What they didn’t factor into their first date was an extraordinarily busy day in the ER. The brutal shift kept Raelle busy for at least an hour past her clock out time. Eventually, Nicte noticed and kicked her out of the hospital so she could make it to her “hot date”—Nicte’s words, but Raelle agreed wholeheartedly with that description.
Thankfully, her Uber driver was also in a major hurry. They raced across town to the Golden Gate Park in record time. Raelle arrived at the meet up spot out of breath and in her scrubs. There among the roses was Scylla, sitting on a blanket, surrounded by takeout containers, waiting for her with a smile that rivaled the sun.
The rest was history.
“Good.” Scylla says, pulling Raelle from her memories, “I assumed you enjoyed our first date when you asked me out on a second one halfway through it.”
Raelle grins. “What can I say? I know what I want.” At the question, Scylla shifts until they are face to face. “What do you want, Raelle?” Scylla’s eyes probe, asking a question of their own. Searching. Waiting.
Scylla’s been doing that a lot lately. Asking her something without asking. Each time Raelle’s heart picks up, just like now. The urge to respond to the unspoken question hanging between them is overwhelming. Raelle swallows. “Well, funny that you’d ask—"
Aggressive buzzing against the soup dumplings interrupts. Raelle groans, taking a quick glance. “Shit.” She murmurs, picking up the phone.
Tally 12:45: Just landed at terminal 1 [smiley face emoji]
Tally 12:45: CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!!
Scylla leans over, quickly scanning the phone, “That’s our cue.”
After replying a quick, “YAY! On our way,” text to Tally, Raelle and Scylla disassemble the picnic and head to their car. Twenty minutes later they pick up Tally and the airport. Their jet lagged friend devours the remaining dim sum, regaling them in between bits with her latest worldly work adventures, as they make their way across the bay.
By the late afternoon, the trio arrives at their final destination: a secluded mini mansion tucked along the outskirts of Berkley, California. Twin iron gates open automatically upon their arrival. The house at the end of the long, winding driveway is something out of Lifestyle magazine… literally, it was featured in the fall edition after the latest renovation. Two stories in the old Victorian style. The driveway ends in front of a two-car garage that burrows into the hill the house sits on.
After parking the car, Raelle moves to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. The weekend bag she packed for her and Scylla is easy. Tally’s bag, however, could swallow their combined luggage four times over. She struggles to get the gargantuan bag to budge. “Are you moving in?” Raelle grumbles, propping one leg against the lip of the trunk and pulls with all her might. Defeated, she takes a breather, casting a withering stare in Tally’s direction.
Her friend returns her gaze, lips quirked into a mischievous knowing. “Something like that.” At a loss for words, Raelle exchanges a confused glance with Scylla, but before they can question Tally about that cryptic response, Adil comes outside and offers to handle the bags.“Such a gentleman.” Scylla comments.
“It’s the least I can do.” Adil says with a bright smile, “Abigail has been looking forward to this for weeks.” Adil abandons the bags after one look at Tally’s, stating he will come back for them. He leads them inside, deep into the house. Along the way, they pass framed photos, depicting the highlights of Abigail and Adil’s story: graduation from Stanford Law, popping champagne in front of a “SOLD” sign for this house, their wedding surrounded by friends and family.
They eventually make it into the living room where Abigail is sitting on the couch, feet up, rubbing her swollen belly. Her eyes light up when she spots them. Abigail rocks on the couch, trying to sit up straighter. Adil, ever the attentive husband, rushes over. “Easy, let me get that.” He coos, guiding Abigail forward just enough to fluff the pillow behind her back, before carefully replacing it. She rewards him with a quick peck on the cheek. After, he disappears to go get the bags leaving the ladies to catch up.
The trio lines up, taking turns to carefully hug Abigail. Raelle lingers in Abigail’s embrace, beyond happy to see her friend. “It’s been far too long.” Raelle says, squeezing back. Abigail sighs and releases her. “I know. Planning the baby shower has been a lot. Can’t believe it’s happening tomorrow.”
“What is time anyway?” Scylla comments, taking a seat next to Raelle on the love seat adjacent. Tally plops on the long couch on the opposite end from Abigail and places Abigail’s feet in her lap. “Seriously, my body doesn’t know what day it is. I’ve crossed too many time zones to count.”
“It’s Friday, Tal. One of my last nights of freedom.” Abigail smiles, “I’m glad you’re here to spend it with me.”
“And tomorrow you get to see your family!” Tally adds.
Abigail frowns, “I love our families but they can be… a lot.”
“You don’t say.” Raelle mutters under her breath. Scylla playfully elbows her in the ribs and muffles a giggle.
“So, how’s pregnancy?” Tally asks.
“Awful.”
“Pregnancy freaks me out.” Raelle admits.
Tally and Scylla simultaneously whip their heads towards her and say in unison, “You’re a doctor.”
“Yes, and I know all about what happens to bodies during pregnancy.” Raelle shudders, “It’s freaky.”
“And it takes too damn long.” Abigail grumbles.
“At least when it’s over you’ll have a daughter.” Tally adds, optimistic as ever. Abigail relaxes, her frown softening into a smile. “The next generation of Bellweathers.” She rubs her belly reverently. Less than a minute later, the heartfelt moment is interrupted by a loud commotion in the hallway followed by a pitiful groan.
“Babe?” Abigail shouts towards the noises, “Are you okay?” Adil hobbles back into the room, left hand nursing his lower back. He stops next to Abigail, panting, “Tally… Tally’s bag… it’s so… so...”
“Seriously Tal,” Raelle cuts in, putting Adil out of his misery, “why did you bring so much luggage? We are here for less than 48 hours.”
“Sarah and I weren’t going to say anything—”
“Sarah and you?” Abigail presses, “There’s still a Sarah and you?”
“Yes,” Tally clarifies, crossing her arms across her chest, “you told me to spare you any details involving your boss, so I have kept it to myself.” A small smile tugs at Tally’s lips, “But, things have gotten serious with us.”
“So serious, you’re moving?” Scylla asks.
Tally nods. “I applied for a reassignment 18 months ago. Reporting jobs in the states are hard to come by, but something opened up in LA last month. I applied and got the job. This weekend marks the end of my traveling the world era and the beginning of my settling down era.”
“That’s fantastic!” Raelle exclaims, genuinely thrilled Tally has found a new path that makes her happy.
“Yeah, glad we’ll all be on the same continent, but,” Abigail hesitates, “Does this mean you’re moving in with my boss?”
Tally quirks an eyebrow, “Do you really want to know that level of detail.”
“Do I want to know if my best friend is moving in with her girlfriend? Yes, of course!”
Tally smiles and nods her head. The room releases a collective breath when Abigail smiles. She waves Adil over, “Take a break, we have a lot to celebrate.”
“Champagne!” Tally blurts out, then looks at Abigail, “Opps, umm, I mean… tea? Fancy tea? Can you drink tea?” Tally and Abigail continue to argue over what pregnancy friendly drink they can use to toast the occasion. Adil, caught in the middle, sits in silence too afraid of accidentally taking anyone’s side.
While the other three are occupied, Raelle pulls Scylla in closer and steals a quick kiss. Scylla hums into it. They stay like that, sharing breaths until Scylla quietly asks, “Does pregnancy really freak you out that much.”
“Yes.”
Scylla frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
Scylla looks at her intently with that inquisitive gaze, searching, hoping?
“I want kids, one day.”
“Oh… oh .”
“Yeah, oh .” Scylla echoes. Her eyes fall to her hands fidgeting in her lap. “I guess we never really talked about this before so this is me telling you. Of course, kids would be something for later, much later, after we, well after…”
Raelle reaches, calming Scylla’s hands. She intertwines their fingers “After we… what?” Raelle asks. Scylla looks up, catching Raelle’s gaze. “Buy a house?” Raelle offers, trying not to drown in those blue eyes.
“In San Francisco?” Scylla huffs, “That’ll never happen.”
“You’re right.” Raelle agrees, “So, no house, unless we move somewhere we can afford. What are we waiting? Raelle’s fingers twitch involuntarily. To distract Scylla from noticing, Raelle leans in closer and whispers, “Marriage?”
Scylla’s eyes flare, sending a jolt of anticipation through Raelle, nervous but also excited by whatever Scylla’s answer is going to be. “Is that a proposal?” Scylla asks, voice low and shaky.
Raelle chuckles, “My love, that was a question.” Scylla rolls her eyes and moves to pull away but Raelle holds her firmly in place. “If it was a proposal,” Raelle continues, “what would your answer be?”
“I think you already know my answer.” Scylla’s voice is nothing more than a ghost along her lips. Raelle aches to close the distance and kiss her, but Scylla quickly pulls away and says, “All you have to do is ask.” Then she slips away to join Tally, Abigail, and Adil who are ransacking the kitchen, leaving Raelle alone on the couch.
The last two minutes replay in Raelle’s mind. Her fingers tick, again. Now that she’s free of probing eyes, she indulges her anxiety and slips her hand into her front pocket until she finds what she so desperately wants to hold. She traces the platinum band and single princess cut diamond.
The ring in her pocket symbolizes the unspoken question that has been plaguing her mind for months, years even. But it was spoken minutes ago, placed before Scylla, and now Raelle knows Scylla’s answer. It’s the same answer she would give if Scylla asked her. She smiles. The woman of her dreams deserves a proposal to remember and not a spontaneous question on Abigail’s couch.
“I’ll ask soon, my love. Sooner than you think.”
With one final converted touch, Raelle frees her hand from her pocket, gets up off the couch, and joins her friends. They spend the night celebrating all the good things in their lives from past to present, and the future to come.