this is home
The night of Jamie’s first day back, Dani shifts her weight back and forth out front of the house, checking her wrist watch every three seconds and shivering from the cold.
It’s quiet outside, just the distant trill of bugs in the bushes or the scramble of a squirrel in the grass. After six months in the middle of bustling London, it’s been a bit of an adjustment, getting used to the countryside. At night, swaddled in the thick blankets of her bed, her ears still reach out past the windows, trying to find the honking of car horns, the chatter of voices, anything busy and different than the quiet.
She hates this feeling—the one that’s been buzzing in her chest since she let Jamie slip away the other night—and it’s especially worse now because she’d thought that—finally—she might have stumbled upon an actual turning point in her life. She’s ready to shed the weight of Eddie’s shadow and jump headfirst into something she’s never known—but wants so badly. And it’s her fault, really, because she’s always, always too afraid to be anything more than she’s always been.
But, here she is. She’s trying. Or…
She thinks she’s trying at least.
The old her certainly never would have found herself standing outside, waiting for a girl to pick her up so they can go for a drink together.
On a date.
This is a date.
And that might be dangerous because Dani is so inexperienced with this and they’re work colleagues. Acquaintances. And, okay, yes, Jamie has flirted with her and Dani has occasionally worked up the nerve to flirt back. There’s been a warm hand on the small of her back and a few shared and weighted looks.
Not to mention that kiss in the greenhouse. Kisses, actually. Plural.
She can’t stop thinking about it—about the heated press of Jamie’s lips to her own, the grip of her fingers in Dani’s hair, guiding her closer and closer.
The crunch of gravel and the rumble of Jamie’s truck coming up the driveway shakes her from her thoughts. It’s too dark for her to see Jamie’s face through the windshield, but it doesn’t matter for long because then the truck is coming to a stop in front of her.
When she goes to open the passenger side door, it resists her pull—locked—and there’s a muffled, “Shit,” from inside the cabin, followed by the sound of the lock turning over.
“Hey,” Jamie greets once Dani’s buckled in beside her. Her eyes are wild, like she thinks she might be hallucinating Dani sitting there. She’s wearing different clothes than she had been earlier, a jacket and a t-shirt tucked into her jeans. Her hair is down now, too, curled around her shoulders. “Ready to go then?”
“Yeah,” Dani says, and panic settles into her stomach. “Thanks for, um...for coming to get me.” Heat flushes up her neck as she tries to read Jamie’s expression and fails.
“Yeah, no, it’s all good.” She bobs her head a few times and then mumbles something under her breath that Dani can’t hear, switching her car back into drive and starting off down the driveway. “Hannah with the little ones?”
“Um, yeah,” Dani says. “She asked Owen to stay with her.”
Jamie’s eyebrows flutter at the news. “Did she?” she asks, then hums thoughtfully. “Well, good for her.”
It’s only a five minute drive into town and they spend it in near-silence. Dani takes in the sights of the small city, the little houses lit-up in the darkness, the shops that are shuttered for the night. The Bly Inn is in the center of the main town road and Jamie parks in front of it. It’s a relatively small building. Two stories and looking like something out of a picture book, but cute.
As they go inside, Dani’s eyes flit up to the darkened windows of the second floor, where she suspects Jamie’s flat is and tries to imagine what it might look like.
There aren’t many people inside. Just a handful of tired looking men making conversation with the bartender as they sit around the bar. Jamie gestures for Dani to find a table and goes to order drinks. She’s sitting in a semi-dark corner, in a booth, when Jamie comes over with two bottled ales and takes a seat across from her.
“Do you come here a lot?” Dani asks, looking around at the old-fashioned decor.
The wood tables are chipping paint and there’s a jukebox in the corner that certainly looks like it’s seen better days. The pictures hanging on the walls feature rolling countrysides and boats sailing stormy seas. She imagines Jamie sitting in here after a long day at the house, elbows resting on the table, smoking a cigarette as she eyed the other patrons with mild amusement. Momentarily, she pictures a beautiful woman sitting beside her or across from her, trailing slim fingers up and down Jamie’s forearm and giggling when Jamie whispers something in her ear.
She bites her lip hard, trying to get the image to fade from her mind.
“Sometimes,” Jamie answers. “Not really. Crowd’s not really my usual type.” She nods to the older men at the bar when she says it.
That’s not surprising and Dani wants to ask follow-up questions because she wants details, wants to hear about the life Jamie led before Dani showed up. She’s only ever been on one first date and it was with Eddie, who she’d already known for something like eight years at that point. She feels a little out of her depth here, on this date.
Because that’s what it is. She’s getting a drink at a bar with a girl she’s kissed, that she’s interested in, and that can’t really be labelled as anything other than romantic in nature.
Hopefully, at least.
“What is your type then?”
Dani doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does—is really just trying to make conversation—but then Jamie gets this look in her eye.
“Sure you’re ready to hear about that?”
Oh.
Dani presses her lips together. Shrugs. “I just…” She clears her throat. “I just want to know more about you.”
At this, Jamie gives a flattered, little laugh and leans forward, elbows on the table just like Dani pictured. “And here I thought you just wanted to get an obligatory drink before falling into my bed.”
Whatever Dani had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. She bursts into a fit of surprised laughter.
“Got more on your mind than that?” Jamie jokes, but she’s blushing a little. “Favorite colors or seasons or childhood traumas what you wanna discuss?”
Dani gives her a look, forcing herself to maintain eye contact despite the way Jamie’s quirk of the lips has her stomach flip-flopping. “I mean...yeah, I want to hear about those things, but it’s not like I don’t want...other stuff,” she says, hoping the stress put on those words are enough to save her from saying it. “Is that okay?”
“That depends,” Jamie says. “You’re not plannin’ on runnin’ off again are ya’?”
Dani blinks. She hasn’t known Jamie for very long, but she knows the emotion in her eyes. She knows what it’s like to feel beyond oneself. Terrified, but wanting all the same.
“No, I—” She cuts herself off and clears her throat, glancing away for a moment. “I’m planning on staying...for a while. If you’ll have me.”
“Yeah? Promise? ’Cause it isn’t like I don’t want you, Poppins. I just don’t want to...get my hopes up only to have you…” she trails off, the same tone in her voice as had been there that night when she’d rushed out of the greenhouse, after they kissed. Dani wants to say something else, something that might further reassure Jamie that she’s planning on standing her ground, but then she realizes what Jamie’s just said.
That she wants her.
Jamie wants her. Wants her like—
“Oh,” she breathes faintly, trying not to panic over that, but she’s already picturing it—being wanted by Jamie, being pressed into a wall or mattress, Jamie’s hands on her hips, her lips on her neck. She feels like she might pass out at any moment. Takes a swig of her ale and lets the bitter taste of it rest in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. Takes another.
When she looks up, Jamie is watching her with the most serious expression Dani’s ever seen her make.
Quick as she can, Dani darts her hand out and grabs Jamie’s, squeezing it and holding it tight. “I’m not…” She shakes her head. Thinks it over. Decides on, “I’m not going to run away again. I promise, okay? I—”
Suddenly, Jamie’s expression softens, eyes dark and serious and a little wounded. She frowns, squeezing Dani’s hand back. “I really like you, Dani. I do,” she says. “This isn’t nothing to me. It’s...something. A lot of something’s.”
Dani’s stomach twists. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again. “To me, too. It would mean...so much to me, too, Jamie. I want all of that stuff with you. All of it and I…” She can’t come up with a way to finish that sentence. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”
At this, Jamie freezes, eyebrows flying up as her eyes widen in shock. She swallows and Dani has one second to be proud of herself for making her so flustered before Jamie is getting to her feet, throwing money on the table and pulling Dani out of the tavern. She lets herself be pulled along, around the building, to a small locked door at the side that Jamie fumbles open with her keys, and then up a dark set of stairs, through another door, and into Jamie’s flat.
She was right when she called it small before, because it is. Clean and open, but a studio really. A full-sized bed against the wall at the front, beneath some windows. A kitchenette by the door with a small fridge and a hot plate instead of a stove. A toaster oven. There’s an armchair in the corner with bookshelves beside it, pointed at a little TV held up by some wooden crates. A stereo beside it and more crates, filled with records this time.
A poster for Blondie on one wall. Another for Joan Jett above a little desk. There’s a pale, blue typewriter on the desk like some kind of shrine to the Lost Generation and Dani can’t imagine what it is that Jamie does with it, but the thought of her sitting there—typing away in the early morning light—is enough to make her heart squeeze.
“So...this is home,” Jamie says, finally dropping Dani’s hand, and it’s a completely ordinary thing to say, but, for some reason, she winces at the words, like she’s just made a huge mistake. She withers a little. “I don’t...I mean, tell me if I’ve read the whole thing wrong, I just thought we could maybe—”
With her heart hammering heavy against her ribcage, Dani crosses the scant distance between them and cups Jamie’s face in her hands. “Would it be okay…” she whispers, her lips only an inch or so from Jamie’s. “Could I—”
“God, Dani, just—” Jamie says, and Dani kisses her before she’s completely finished with the sentence. Jamie kisses her back almost immediately, loose and practiced, like she’s been preparing this for a while. Her mouth opens, tongue brushing against Dani’s lips, and then Dani’s is open too and there’s tongue and—
Finally.
Between kisses—between pulling Jamie’s clothes off her body; between helping Jamie with her own pants and shoes; between being pressed into the mattress and tugging Jamie closer—Dani almost tells her that she hasn’t had sex in a very long time. That she hasn’t ever had sex with a woman and that her only experience is with the man she’d watched die right in front of her. But Jamie’s lips are insistent, her hands hot and steady as they slide around Dani’s body, mapping her out. Exploring. She’s slipping down and down and then her tongue is on Dani’s thighs and her head is bobbing between her legs, and Dani can’t even say anything but, “Yes,” and, “Jamie,” and, “Right there.”
There’s time for all of that to come later. There’s time for her to get answers to questions she never thought to ask, to pull Jamie into an embrace and kiss the scar on her shoulder, the scars on her arms and stomach. There’s time to figure out all of the stuff they haven’t quite had time to sort out yet.
They have time. So much.
Dani couldn’t run away now, not even if she wanted to.
She doesn’t want to.
And, well—
So much for boring.
...