Natasha emerges from the bathroom and even though she's still irritated, Sawyer's stomach flips a bit at Natasha's goofy smile and the crinkles around her eyes.
"That's a great idea," Natasha says, ignoring Sawyer's outburst. "We can do a gallery and get a veggie brunch."
They agree that Sawyer will go home and change, and they'll meet at a gallery that Natasha suggests. Sawyer wants to get out as soon as possible, she feels guilty for sleeping in on her one day off for the next three weeks. She didn't mean to drink so much or stay out so late.
Natasha is back in the bathroom, teasing her hair into a bun and clipping some fake flowers into it. Sawyer steps in behind her and splashes her face with water. She shrugs off the loose smock and holds Natasha's eyes in the mirror. She slept in her bra, it's very different from the heavy-duty bra that she wears to yoga. It's a light peach color and the cups are a fine mesh with tiny peach polka dots. As she leans forward her breasts almost spill out of the cups. She knows the color looks striking on her skin and the shadow of her cleavage is deep and inviting. Sawyer looks at Natasha's reflection and smiles when she sees how Natasha's nostrils flare, and how her top lip goes stiff.
Sawyer wiggles back into her dress from last night. Natasha is half-way buttoned into a black dress covered in folksy embroidery. She's suddenly crowding into Sawyer's space, bringing her hands up to the sides of Sawyer's head. Sawyer looks down at her full red lips. The rest of Natasha's face is bare but her lips are fully lined and filled in. Natasha surges against Sawyer, more aggressive than last night. She's dragging Sawyer down by the sides of her face and raking her teeth over Sawyer's lips.
"I haven't fucked a tall girl in a while," Natasha rasps.
Sawyer whines and opens her mouth further, Natasha licks into her mouth while gripping Sawyer's head tightly between her palms. Sawyer's wondering whether she should give up all hope of making the most of her day off and just take Natasha to bed.
She pulls back, "I need to go to mine to get ready. I can't stay here. I've got my heart set on a falafel burger somewhere where they only ever play Grimes or St Vincent."
Natasha walks her backwards to the door, kissing her as Sawyer laughs into her mouth.
They meet up outside the Copley T-stop. Sawyer is taking advantage of the mild September weather to get one last wear out of her favorite sherbet lemon dress. She's wearing matching pumps and when she does a little spin for Natasha she feels both her curls and the ruffles of her hem lift up. She's easily the tallest woman in the vicinity. She feels conspicuous and ridiculous but she can tell Natasha likes Sawyer playing at being her late-Summer dream girl.
South End is charming. She loves the Victorian red brick buildings with their painted bay windows and wrought-iron railings. Natasha is a charming date. She's bright, weird and interesting. They go to three small galleries and Natasha has an opinion on everything. She gesticulates a lot at the work, and goes up on her toes to whisper urgently into Sawyer's ear.
Sawyer doesn't get a falafel burger for lunch, but she does get a lentil and beetroot one. She texts a picture of it to Mikaela to prove that she's eating somewhat healthily.
Over lunch, Natasha shows off her French and her Russian. She talks about growing up a gymnast, about her performance art in college and making her own jewelry. She's much less guarded than she was last night, and Sawyer just likes watching her talk. The burger place does bottomless organic sodas and Natasha makes sure that Sawyer's cup is never empty, running back and forth to the pumps and mixing Sawyer weird flavor combinations.
Natasha holds her hand on their way out of the restaurant. Digital Witness is playing. Sawyer holds their hands up to examine the differences. Hers are much bigger but Natasha's hand looks stronger, and the backs are tracked with raised veins. Her middle and index fingers are stained yellow from nicotine. The tendons in her wrists stick out, and her nail beds are totally wrecked. Sawyer's hands are plump with long fingers and freckled backs. Natasha tugs Sawyer's shoulder down and hisses in her ear, "I'm going to fuck you with this hand."
Sawyer clenches, feels a pull deep inside her where she wants Natasha to be.
At five, Natasha says she has to get back to the centre for breastfeeding yoga.
"This is the first time a date has ever left me to go and stare at a whole room of tits."
"They usually use slings when they're feeding," Natasha replies. That was not the response Sawyer wanted. She stares Natasha down.
"...and none are as pretty as yours, obviously."
Sawyer shunts Natasha with her shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
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That evening Sawyer calls Natasha. Natasha hates long phone calls, and she spends most of it lowering herself into the splits over and over, or chewing the skin on her fingers, or jabbing the lid of a pen into her palm.
Sawyer doesn't seem to notice Natasha's discomfort and merrily chirps her way through the phone call. Natasha chooses to imagine Sawyer laying on her back in the
