Sweet & Spicy Lesbian Short Stories (GirlxGirl)

Something in the Chocolate: Part 1

Emma is a reluctant volunteer at her work's Easter picnic, but when the colleague she has a crush on shows up, the day turns out to be not so bad. Rating: PG

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"Step right twice, and then left twice, okay?" I shout.

A swarm of forty kids shriek before me, barely paying attention. I look skyward, wondering how I got myself into this. In the open field around me, my coworkers mingle and eat the chocolate eggs the kids scavenged for minutes ago. Overhead, the blinding sun is warmer than the forecast said, leaving me prickly beneath my cable knit sweater.

I cock my hands in front of me like a bunny, hating my life. "Then you jump forward, and back, and hop, hop, hop. Got it?"

The kids keep yelling, jumping like popcorn in a frying pan as sugar courses through their systems.

I look around desperately. Where is Jory? She's the only reason I came to the company picnic, and the reason I joined the office fun committee in the first place—which was, in hindsight, not my best idea. Surely I could come up with other excuses to spend time with her, but here I am, teaching my coworkers' kids how to do the bunny hop on a Saturday afternoon, all because she cast that devastating smile and said, "Hey, Emma, you should join the fun committee with me!"

I press play on the music, eager to get this over with. The bunny hop starts, the bubbly tune attacking my eardrums.

Trish from HR looks my way so I plaster on a smile. "Ready, kids?"

I'm so done. I'm quitting the fun committee tomorrow. It served its purpose: Jory and I are talking. It's time to ask her out and stop getting myself into these things. I don't like my job enough to volunteer at weekend socials.

When the song ends and the volume of the kids' screams reaches a peak, I beeline toward the white tent reserved for the fun committee and catering staff. We've stowed our bags there, along with the presents we're supposed to hand out to the kids later. It'll be a good place to hide—and maybe find some sunscreen before my sun-deprived face gets burned.

Before I can step into the tent, the flaps open, and a five-and-a-half-foot white bunny wearing a blue vest steps out.

I scream.

Then I cover my mouth, horrified. "Sorry," I say through my hands. "You scared the shi—crap out of me."

I look around for children. We're alone.

The bunny waves at me. He doesn't speak, like any good theme park character.

"My dad let me watch Donnie Darko when I was eight," I say, needing to explain my over-the-top reaction. "Totally messed me up."

I'm not sure where to look. The giant glassy eyes? Is the person's face in the rabbit's open mouth? I think I see mesh. "Anyway, um, the kids are over there. I'm sure they'll be happy to see the guest of honor."

As the creepy bunny moves on and I scan the field for signs of Jory, my insides are doing flips. The prospect of asking her out makes me nauseous. What if I've been misreading what I thought was flirting? Plus, being coworkers complicates this. I don't want to look like I'm hitting on the new girl, and I'm sure Jory doesn't want to look like she's flirting with her coworkers at her new job.

Trish spots me and flags me down. "Can you help the Easter bunny hand out presents to the kids?" she says in a bubbly, kid-friendly voice.

"Sure," I say, regretting not crawling into a hole when I had the chance.

I need to stop doubting myself. What Jory and I are doing has to be flirting, right? We chat on Slack all day every day, and none of it is work-related. It's about her love of hiking in the sun, and my love of rainy days and reading. It's about her litter of foster kittens named after flowers, and my betta fish named Carl. It's about her excitement over whatever meetup group she's joining that weekend, and my predictable plans to spend it reading and illustrating. I even opened up to her about my dreams of quitting this job and becoming a full-time artist, and she opened up about how she used to love drawing as a kid before her dad died and she lost some of her creative spark.

I can't be imagining the connection we have. We're open with each other in ways I've never been with anyone else.

While the bunny and I hand out cheap gifts and more chocolate to the horde of children, my energy drains. There are so many things I could be doing this afternoon. Like finishing my book.

"This event would be better if people could bring their dogs," I mumble to the bunny, who gives me two thumbs up.

We finally finish, and the bunny claps me on the back and raises the roof.

My insides are sinking into the grass, which is mud now that all the kids have been tapdancing on it all afternoon. There's half an hour left before we have to start cleaning up. I guess Jory isn't coming.

There are a few extra chocolate rabbits in the bottom of the bag—presumably for the people who wisely didn't come today. I open a box and snap the head off while the Easter bunny beside me watches.

"Adults deserve your chocolate too," I say before he can judge me. "I'm here out of the goodness of my heart. And I'm regretting every second of it."

I take a giant bite and let out a slow breath. The hit of milk chocolate makes me feel marginally better.

As the bunny and I walk back to the white tent, I say, "Sorry I'm being a downer. I thought the person I have a crush on was going to be here today. You're doing a great job. What entertainment company did we end up going with?"

We enter the tent, and the bunny reaches up to its big white head.

And beneath it—oh, fuck.

"Surprise!" Jory says. "The entertainer canceled last-minute, so I ran out to rent a costume."

Part 2 coming tomorrow! Read the full story right now on "Sweet & Spicy Sapphic Stories" at patreon.com/tianawarner. Plus you'll get early access to next week's story.