Pure Connections

Chapter 7

"So, you're telling me," Blake called out, "the two of you spent the night cuddled up on your couch, eating Indian takeout and watching women dance around in tiny skirts?"

      Lisa exhaled in feigned annoyance as she grabbed two cans of La Croix from Blake's fridge and started past the small island toward the living room. The pistachio-colored accent wall, yellow wall lamps and frequency of potted plants had Blake written all over the apartment, but the LED inlets lining the all-white ceiling and cool gray sofas were much more his fiancé's taste. "I'm telling you we watched the original Bring It On, because we both think it's a classic."

      "Yeah." Blake trained his moss green eyes up at her, extending a hand for the pastèque labeled can. "A classic enemies-to-lovers."

      "Don't start with this again."

      "I'm telling you, Torrance and Isis had off the charts chemistry. That was a true missed connection, if you ask me. I mean, Cliff was adorable, but his name was Cliff, for fuck's sake."

      Lisa laughed, opening her own can. "You know there's a fix for the distinct itch you have over that movie. It's called fanfic."

      "Lali, no one is out there writing fanfic for a movie that's twenty years old."

      Lisa reached for her phone, always so happy to prove Blake wrong whenever they wound up in these absurd debates. "Let's find out."

      Blake's hand emerged over the screen. "Before we head down the deepest rabbit hole of avoidance..." The subtle shift in his tone gave away what was coming next. Not that the word avoidance hadn't been a billboard-sized clue. "Seriously, what are you doing, Lis? Meeting up for lunch is one thing, but letting her live with you?"

      Lisa lowered her drink to the modest coffee table, then grabbed a throw pillow and squeezed it to her chest. "It's just two weeks, B. Her apartment has a hole in the ceiling, and the place they got for her to stay honestly sounded like a nightmare. What was I supposed to do?"

      Blake pulled a face. "Not rescue her. Doesn't she have friends? Family?"

      "I didn't rescue her. She has options. Still does."

      "She has options?" Blake tilted his head in search of Lisa's eyes. "Are we still talking about places to stay here?"

      "Yes." Lisa clenched her molars. It had barely been three days since Jennie had started staying at the loft, but Lisa had seen enough to know Jennie didn't need her help—the fact that even her pajamas, the perfect blend of comfy and sexy, were designer, the late model Mercedes she drove, maybe even something in her demeanor. There was every possibility that HR slash admin at Gia got paid exceptionally well, but Lisa had a feeling it was more than that. Maybe last night when Jennie had drifted off to sleep in her corner of the couch and Lisa had taken a moment to appreciate how beautiful she was lying there, the options circling her mind had nothing to do with the kind that Jennie's money could afford. Maybe it had everything to do with knowing Jennie could have been somewhere else with someone else right that second, but she'd chosen to be in the same space as Lisa. What was so wrong with feeling good about that?

      "Lali...."

      "It's not like we're sleeping together."

      "Which I'm guessing hasn't stopped you from making heart eyes at her."

      Lisa shifted on the chair to face him, taking his cold, chunky hand between hers. "I like spending time with her, B. I don't know how to make that just go away, and I can't ask her to leave. I don't want to. I know I told you about the kiss, but we were stuck in a plane for fourteen hours, talking about our trips and her jerk of an ex, sharing food and holding hands through turbulence, and listening to her abundance of Hayley Kiyoko songs. She knew I sleep with my mouth open before we even knew each other for a day. So, when I kissed her, I was...It felt like we'd known each other forever and like I would never see her again and—" She broke off, sighing. "What I'm saying is, my eyes are open, which doesn't make me bulletproof. But it also means I'm not Baby Queer College Lisa, who'll show up on your doorstep after getting her heart stomped on by some girl who was just looking for an experience."