Just Desserts- GxG

Chapter 2-The Ghost of Camry's Past

I punch the button to the elevator with brutal force. I'm not sure why, it's not like it had just offended me. I roll my eyes at my own reaction and end up staring straight ahead at my reflection, blurry in the metallic doors. I tug at the maroon tie around my neck, to loosen it's stranglehold. Once that's a little more bearable, I shove both hands into my pockets and rock up on my toes, deep in thought as to what my night will consist of now.

Maybe I can salvage my tinder hook up. If not I'll head to The Splitz, a LGBTQ+ bar I like to frequent because they're more heavy on the sapphic traffic than the others near by. Plus they're doing a Christmas Eve drag show that I might decide to participate in, without anything better to do.

Camry's heels- click clacking in the echoing corridor- alert me to her approach, and then she appears within the distorted steel reflection in front of me. Her actual body is behind me, giving me plenty of space. She's studying me, probably only doing so because she has no idea I can actually see where her focus lies.

(Ding)

The sound causes her to look up as the doors slide open. In the 3 seconds before they part, our eyes meet in the reflection.

I step in, but she hesitates, and I see the pink tint in her cheeks that tell me she's embarrassed to have been caught looking. I meet her eyes, and there's another solid second or two when I think she's going to just wait for another elevator. But then she steps in, holding my gaze.

The natural beauty stands in front of me with a look of consternation, puzzling me with her odd behavior. The doors close after a moment, but the elevator doesn't move, because neither of us have pressed anything. There's no one left in the building to call on the metal death trap, so we stay stuck in stasis.

I'm not one to shy away from an awkward staring contest, so I continue looking down into her blue eyes. They seem as endless and vast as the sky.

"You really don't remember me, do you?"

My eyebrows dip low at her words, confusion breaking through my stoicism. I begin studying and absorbing the alluring face in front of me, not for the first time. Except now I'm trying to reconcile them with faces stored in my memory. She has always seemed a little familiar, in an uncomfortable way. But I've seen and slept with many beautiful women in my 30 years, and I'm drawing a blank when it comes her.
Likely, she's just another one night stand, scorned by my lack concern for her feelings. I'm just surprised that I don't remember her if so, she checks all my boxes and then some. She's at least worth two or three nights of fun. But I can count on one hand the amount of those I've had, and I remember all of those women very well.

"Should I?" Is my dubious response.

Her shoulders rise with a fortified breath. "I guess not. It's been a long time." She sounds dejected, finally looking away.

"How long are we talking?" Because there was a solid 7 years that I was getting trashed every weekend and living up my late teens and early 20s like there was no tomorrow. Faces don't stick around like they should, when you're getting blackout drunk."

"14 years." She responds quietly. She increases the volume of her voice when she adds, "Too long for me to even bring it up. Forget I said anything."

She steps forward and turns her back to me, reaching to press the button for Level 1. I stop her with a hand wrapped around her slim wrist.

"You're saying I knew you when I was 17? Are you sure you've got the right person?" I ask, thinking she must have gotten her handsome, biracial lesbians mixed up.

She allows me to stop her, but pulls away from me and puts her back to the opposite wall. She looks upset, although she's masking it incredibly well. Even as she speaks, her words sound disaffected. Which is amazing because they have one hell of an effect on me.