Heart Strings|GirlxGirl

Moments Between Us

The morning sunlight streamed through Axel’s apartment, casting a soft glow across the scattered guitar cases and artfully messy furniture. Axel stood by the counter, cradling a steaming cup of coffee as Freya waltzed in, holding up a cookbook with a gleeful expression.

“Pasta from scratch,” Freya announced, dropping the book on the counter with a dramatic flair. “You and me. Today.”

Axel sipped her coffee, raising an eyebrow. “Do I look like the kind of person who makes pasta from scratch? That’s what restaurants are for.”

Freya tilted her head, giving Axel a sweet but challenging look. “And yet, here I am. Ready to make a chef out of you.”

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was a battleground. Axel stood at the counter, her hands coated in flour as she stared down a lump of dough that stubbornly resisted all her efforts. “This feels wrong,” she muttered, pressing her palms into the sticky mass.

Freya leaned over from her side of the counter, already an expert with her perfectly smooth dough. “You have to put your back into it, Axel,” she teased, flexing her hands dramatically. “Like this.”

Axel rolled her eyes but complied, pressing harder until a puff of flour erupted into the air. It landed on her sweater and, unfortunately, on Freya.

Freya froze, staring at the white powder on her arm. “Did you just—”

Before she could finish, Axel grinned mischievously, tossing another handful of flour her way. Freya gasped, grabbing a cup of water and flicking it in Axel’s direction. What followed was pure chaos—a mix of laughter, shrieks, and unrelenting flour and water assaults.

By the time they declared a truce, the kitchen was unrecognizable. Flour covered every surface, and their attempted pasta doughs were abandoned in favor of shared laughter. Axel leaned against the counter, catching her breath, as Freya tried to wipe flour from her cheek.

“This... did not go as planned,” Freya admitted, though her smile said otherwise.

“Speak for yourself,” Axel replied, grinning. “I’d call this a success.”

---

An hour later, the two ventured out into the city. Freya, ever the planner, had a list of places she wanted to explore. Axel, who usually avoided crowded streets, found herself oddly willing to follow Freya’s lead.

Their first stop was an independent bookstore tucked away on a quiet street. The scent of old paper and coffee filled the air as they stepped inside. Freya’s eyes lit up immediately, and she pulled Axel toward the poetry section.

Axel wandered to a nearby shelf, picking up a biography about a famous guitarist. She was flipping through the pages when Freya called her over.

“Look at this,” Freya said, holding up a beautifully bound book of French poetry.

Axel leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “Read me something,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Freya didn’t hesitate. She opened the book and began reciting, her voice smooth and lilting. Axel didn’t catch every word—her French was rusty—but the way Freya spoke was mesmerizing. It felt like music, each word a note that hung in the air.

“You’re amazing,” Axel said quietly when Freya finished.

Freya looked down, her cheeks flushing. “It’s just a poem.”

“It’s you,” Axel corrected, her voice sincere.

Freya looked up at her, their eyes meeting for a moment that felt like forever.

---

By midday, they found themselves in the park, Freya unpacking a picnic she had prepared. Axel stretched out on the blanket, her guitar resting on her lap. She strummed a lazy tune while Freya handed her a piece of fruit.

“This feels ridiculously wholesome,” Axel teased, taking a bite.

Freya laughed, settling beside her. “Not everything has to be chaotic, Axel.”

Axel smirked. “Tell that to the kitchen.”

Freya rolled her eyes but leaned back to watch the clouds. Axel played a soft melody, her fingers moving effortlessly over the strings. After a while, Freya turned her head to look at Axel.

“Play something you wrote,” she said.

Axel hesitated for a moment before nodding. She began to play a slower, more emotional tune, her voice low as she sang a few verses. Freya listened intently, her heart swelling with every note.

“That was beautiful,” Freya said when Axel finished.

Axel shrugged, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “Just something I’ve been working on.”

---

As evening approached, they found themselves in front of a small independent cinema. Axel had insisted on bringing Freya here, declaring that she couldn’t go another day without seeing one of Axel’s favorite cult classics.

They sat in the back row, sharing a bucket of popcorn. Freya leaned closer to Axel as the film started, her curiosity outweighing her skepticism.

An hour into the movie, Freya turned to Axel, whispering, “I can’t believe you like this.”

Axel grinned, leaning closer. “You just don’t get it.”

Freya rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. Their hands brushed in the popcorn bucket, and neither of them pulled away. By the end of the film, Freya was laughing alongside Axel, her initial doubts forgotten.

---

Back at Axel’s apartment, they collapsed onto the couch. The day had been long, but neither of them seemed ready to part ways. Axel draped an arm over the back of the couch, and Freya rested her head on her shoulder.

“You’re surprisingly good at this whole ‘girlfriend’ thing,” Freya said, her voice teasing.

“Surprising?” Axel replied, pretending to be offended.

Freya smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Axel’s face. “Okay, maybe not surprising. You’re a natural.”

Axel leaned down, pressing a light kiss to Freya’s forehead. “So are you.”

They stayed like that for hours, wrapped up in each other and the quiet contentment of simply being together.