Left Turns
Angela didn't stay at the bar long.
Amanda watched from the booth, pretending to scroll through her phone, pretending she wasn’t listening with every inch of herself to the low hum of conversation between Angela and the brunette—whose name, Amanda overheard, was Lucy.
It wasn’t going badly. Lucy laughed easily at Angela's jokes, leaning in a little closer each time. Angela’s smile was relaxed, genuine, the kind that Amanda had come to crave seeing more than she wanted to admit.
After a while, Angela pulled her phone out, exchanged numbers with Lucy, and Amanda’s stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. She forced herself to look away, studying the drink menu like it contained the secrets of the universe.
A few minutes later, Angela returned to the booth, sliding into the seat across from Amanda with a satisfied little smile.
"What happened to your hot date?" Amanda asked, aiming for teasing but landing closer to breathless.
Angela shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "We’re going to grab coffee sometime next week."
Amanda arched an eyebrow. "Look at you, making actual plans."
Angela laughed, tipping her head back. "I’m trying to be a functioning adult. It’s exhausting."
Amanda smiled tightly, feeling a prickle of something she didn't want to name under her skin.
"Thanks for playing wingwoman, though," Angela added, reaching across the table to bump Amanda’s knuckles with her own. "You’re the real MVP."
"All in a night's work," Amanda said lightly, tapping her glass against Angela's in a quiet toast. "I’ll expect a full report after your date."
Angela grinned, easy and unaware of the slow, sick feeling unfurling in Amanda's chest.
They stayed like that for a while, lingering over their drinks, letting the night stretch around them. The crowd started to thin as the hour grew late, the music softening into something slow and hazy. Amanda felt the familiar pull—the wish to stay frozen in this moment, uncomplicated and golden.
Angela drummed her fingers lightly against the tabletop. "Hey," she said. "What if we took a walk?"
Amanda blinked. "A walk? It's almost midnight."
Angela grinned. "All the best walks happen after midnight."
Before Amanda could overthink it, she was grabbing her jacket and following Angela out into the night.
The city had quieted into a kind of sleepy hum. The sidewalks were slick with earlier rain, streetlights casting puddles of gold across the pavement. Angela tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, falling into step beside Amanda easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
They didn’t talk much at first. Just wandered, passing closed shopfronts and darkened cafés. Angela pointed out weird graffiti on a lamppost, made up a ridiculous backstory for it that had Amanda snorting into her scarf.
At a corner, they paused, waiting for the light to change.
Angela glanced at her, a half-smile playing at the edge of her mouth. "You know," she said casually, "I’m glad you came out tonight."
Amanda looked over, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice.
"Yeah?"
Angela bumped her shoulder lightly against Amanda’s. "Yeah. You’re a terrible dancer, but you’re excellent company."
Amanda laughed, the sound a little too loud in the quiet street.
The light changed. They crossed together, shoulders brushing, easy and close.
Amanda didn’t know what this was—this thing curling warm in her chest whenever Angela smiled at her like that. She didn’t know what it meant.
But for tonight, she didn’t question it.
For tonight, she let it be enough.