Beautiful People | wlw

Fifteen: Viral

A soft trilling sang through the fluffy remnants of sleep. Sunlight warm on Vera's face and mattress dipping under her, the deeper warmth at her back shifting away. A rustle of cloth; soft, quick footsteps that faded into the sleepy haze.

She rolled over, the subtle scent of tropical flowers wafting off clean white sheets, and settled again with a sigh of deep contentment.

The ringing went silent. Sharise's voice drifted down the hall, a low murmur indistinguishable above the hum of traffic through the open window. Snuggling closer into the pillow, Vera found herself smiling.

When they had made it back to Sharise's apartment the night before, the air had felt closer; warmer. The breathless urgency firing the kiss on the roof had eased with their slowing heartbeats, softening to a thrum deep beneath their flickering skin.

"There's no rush. We have all night," Sharise had said, lids low over sparkling eyes.

Vera hadn't said it out loud, but she thought she wouldn't mind hearing Sharise say that every night.

Sharise had put on some soft music. They had fed each other grapes and shit-talked their exes and jokingly debated whether Vera had a mommy kink (results inconclusive). There was no talk of work or schedules or Carmen, which was exactly how Vera liked it.

And they had kissed long and slow and sweet. Lips had pressed feathery promises against ear and throat and heaving ribs. Hands had made languorous exploration along welcoming curves, through warm hollows, over leaping pulses to find the sibylline secrets between one gasping breath and the next.

In the end, the long weeks of exhaustion and stress had caught up to Vera. She had yawned through removing their makeup side by side, over a new toothbrush Sharise opened for her, into the soft pillow of Sharise's arms when they finally fell together into bed. There was a kind of safety in Sharise's embrace, a steady surety in the twinkle in her eye, a certainty with every kiss. It had been months since Vera had slept so well.

Blinking now against hazy late-morning sunlight, Vera slipped from the bed. Her shirt and bra had been abandoned somewhere by the couch the night before, so she wriggled into her vegan leather leggings and padded down the hall topless.

Sharise was in the living room, laptop on the coffee table, her phone face-up beside it. One palm on the door frame, Vera stood admiring the fingers of sunlight spreading cobalt shadows across Sharise's dark skin. Without the harsh edge of eyeliner, there was an unusual softness to even her stern expression. A yellow terry cloth robe wrapped her curves, a pink-and-white silk scarf folded up over her hair. Vera loved her in a pair of pants but this unguarded, just-woke-up look was doing something funny to her stomach.

"Marina did what?" Sharise was asking, pinching the bridge of her nose between two nails as she stared at the computer screen.

From the phone, Carmen replied in a tone thick with sulk. "She was drunk, and she deleted it, but there are screenshots. It makes her look jealous and petty as fuck. It's a bad look, especially with the whole charity angle. Cora thinks I should--"

Sharise had finally noticed Vera standing topless in the doorway. Her perfect eyebrows arched. Vera couldn't help doing a little shimmy. The tiniest smile cracked Sharise's lips. Grinning like an idiot because she could see the laughter trapped behind those very white teeth, Vera tiptoed across the room to scoop her shirt off the floor.

"Are you listening to me?" Carmen demanded.

Sharise snapped her gaze back to her phone. "I'm listening."

Now that she was closer Vera could see Carmen on the screen. With a small yelp she ducked down out of sight because if she could see Carmen, Carmen could probably see her. But it was too late.