Her father moves the conversation on, and Natasha feels that no-one will miss her if she goes for a cigarette. Natasha picks her way between the tables and out into the street. The windows are fogged up with the heat inside the restaurant, and Natasha can just see the shimmer of the candles on each table and the shadowed silhouettes of people talking. She takes a deep breath; the fresh evening air is a welcome change. She brings her shoulders up to her ears and then drops them as low as she can. She repeats it a few times until she feels the tension seep away. She lights a cigarette.
The door opens behind her and releases a quick blizzard of noise before it swings shut again.
“Hi,” says Sawyer softly. She puts her hand lightly on Natasha’s shoulders.
“I missed you,” Sawyer whispers, “Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah, I am. Just needed a breather and a smoke.”
It surprises Natasha that she’s not lying. She is having a good time.
“Hrm, breathing and smoking. One of those really doesn’t facilitate the other,” Sawyer teases. She reaches for Natasha’s cigarette and grabs it off her. Natasha starts to try and wrestle it back, but Sawyer doesn’t put it out. She puts it to her lips and takes a long drag.
“Hey! Get off! You don’t smoke!”
Sawyer rolls her eyes and takes another, deeper drag. She exhales through her nostrils. It’s disturbingly hot, Natasha notes.
“I’m entitled to something, I’m going teetotal for my first meal with my girlfriend’s family,” Sawyer gives Natasha a smile with pursed lips and a tilted head. Natasha feels guilty for a second until she remembers that Sawyer is the one that suggested it all.
“Look at what Lucia has sent me,” says Sawyer, getting out her phone. She shows Natasha a picture taken in Lucia’s bathroom. Natasha can see the side of the tub and a running faucet. On the floor there’s a book titled ‘Contemporary Queer Playwrights. Vol. 4’, a fat joint with the end twisted up, and a matte black vibrator. Lucia’s added a caption saying, "I bet you wish you were me," with a crying emoji.
“She’s a bitch,” Natasha laughs, it’s such a typically Lucia thing to do.
“I know, I love her,” says Sawyer. She’s laughing too, looking at the picture again and shaking her head. Natasha’s heart feels full to bursting.
“Alisha’s a fucking monster though,” says Sawyer.
“Really?” Natasha is surprised, she thought Sawyer and her younger sister would be able to find common ground.
“Yes! She keeps telling me I could be a plus size model, she asked for my height and my cup size! She’s told me three times now that Ashley Graham has over six million Instagram followers.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry my sister is apparently as obsessed with your tits as I am.”
“I don’t think being obsessed with my tits is a hereditary condition. I think you can both probably control it,” Sawyer crosses her arms over the tits in question and they squash almost as far up as her necklace.
Natasha has a somber thought, “You can’t be too hard on Alisha though. Things were really tough for her when we were younger. Ursula was away at college and everyone was worrying about me all the time, I think she missed out on a lot of normal, fun adolescent stuff. It’s not easy when your older sibling is a bit crazy.”
Natasha sees Sawyer flinch. It’s just a tiny flicker but Natasha notices it and feels like a tool for the second time that day. She puts her hand on Sawyer’s arm, “No, Sawyer. Your situation is different. It’s not your fault that…” Natasha thinks of the right word to say. All the words that come to mind sound too dark for this early Summer evening.
“Okay, yeah,” Sawyer interrupts Natasha’s agonizing, “But by that logic, it’s not your fault that you were ill.” Her gaze is direct, and it burns into Natasha. Sawyer’s right. Sawyer’s right, and Natasha knows it.
Sawyer moves closer to Natasha, looms over her. Sawyer eyes are heavy lidded, and her mouth is so close. If Natasha stood on her toes she would be easily within reach of Sawyer’s lips. They’re so tantalizingly close that Natasha can smell the rich garlic and hot chilli on her breath. They stay frozen, sharing each other’s breath, for as long as Natasha can stand. She flexes her feet and pushes up to Sawyer’s mouth, but Sawyer moves away. Natasha sinks down, and Sawyer moves closer again. Her eyes are almost black. She makes a quicker push up to Sawyer’s mouth, but Sawyer anticipates the movement before Natasha makes it. Natasha grabs Sawyer’s wrists instead.
“Kiss me, or you’ll be sorry when we get home,” she murmurs to Sawyer.
“Beg me,” Sawyer says imperiously, arching her eyebrow. Natasha could push back, take control, but she’s intrigued enough to see what Sawyer will do if she obeys.
“Sawyer Martinez, will you please kiss me?”
Sawyer smirks and moves slowly, almost imperceptibly slowly, towards Natasha.
“Girls!” The sexual tension between them dissipates immediately as a very familiar voice rings out behind them. “Girls! Aw, you are just adorable. I should have taken a little picture of you. Mom and Dad want to know what you want for dessert.”
“We’ll come back in now, thanks Alisha,” answers Natasha as Sawyer hides her face in Natasha’s neck. Alisha smiles and makes her way back into the restaurant.
“Alisha wanted to share a dessert with me. She’s a
