Beer & coffee
Vi was waiting for Caitlyn, leaning against the half-closed wrought iron gate, after quickly changing in the school’s bathroom. She never felt comfortable undressing in front of people, let alone in front of her. Vi sighed, releasing a thick cloud of steam from her mouth. Winter was slowly settling in Paris. She crossed her arms, tightening her leather jacket around her body, thinking about the biting cold that would invade her apartment in a few weeks.
In a few short, sharp sentences, Vi and Caitlyn had agreed to meet up for a drink. Neither of them had been able to talk in the principal’s office, too stunned by what had just happened.
"Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long," Caitlyn said, her boots echoing on the cobblestones. It was the first time Vi had seen her out of uniform: a black coat reaching her ankles, jeans that hugged her long, muscular legs. While she looked stunning in her school uniform, it didn’t do her justice, and Vi had to stop herself from gawking.
Vi had never been considered short, but Caitlyn was a good head taller, and she didn’t mind at all. On the contrary, she had always had a thing for tall, unattainable women.
With some effort, Vi tore her gaze away and turned on her heels, heading toward the nearest café. She bit her lip: Pull it together, Vi.
"You coming? I’m freezing my ass off." She didn’t turn around, but she could tell from the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk that Caitlyn was following her.
"Un café pour moi, je vous prie, sans sucre"
"Une pinte, blonde, merci"
The waitress left with their orders and Vi surveyed the surroundings. Large stained glass windows let the evening light fade onto the wooden tables, covering them with a multicolored glow. Thick, plush cushions spilled over the chairs and benches. A curtain of transparent beads separated the kitchen from the room, tinkling to the rhythm of the dishes coming out. Red, green, pink— the colors clashed, but this chaos gave it a certain coherence. Dreamcatchers hung from the ceiling, crocheted blankets carelessly thrown, tarot cards available for self-service... Vi felt like she was swimming in all the hippie-witchy-gay clichés of Pinterest. I should bring Powder here, she’d get a kick out of it.
Vi leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped.
"So, Kiramman."
"Caitlyn."
"What?"
"My name's Caitlyn."
A silence fell, her comment interrupting the train of thought and replacing it with another: Kiramman had a name. She ran a hand over the shaved side of her hair and continued:
"So. Yes. Caitlyn." Saying it for the first time, she appreciated the sound, the way the syllables rolled off her tongue, and a slight blush crept onto her face. "Anyway. As the principal said, I'm here to help you... improve your pastry skills." Vi had chosen a diplomatic phrasing, and Caitlyn nodded slightly, grateful. The truth was, she was disastrous, and without help, passing the year was out of the question.
The waitress returned and placed their drinks, which they took with polite thanks. It was Caitlyn who resumed the conversation, locking eyes with Vi.
"Listen, Vi. I know we got off on the wrong foot, and you're probably going to refuse to help me. I just wanted to clear up the misunderstanding. I’m sorry for the bad joke on the phone. It was just an imitation of my mom, and you showed up at the wrong time. Please, don't take it as my actual opinion."
Her cerulean eyes, so sincere in hers, made Vi slightly choke on her beer, which she had been drinking contentedly. She set her glass down with a sharp thud, hand over her mouth to wipe away the liquid she almost spat out. Vi hadn't expected an apology. She had thought that this snobby girl would kindly tell her that she’d rather find someone else to help her. Her mind worked quickly; she didn't tell her that the principal had practically forced her—except without the knife to the throat—to help.
"Yeah, yeah, okay." The apology had touched her more than she wanted to admit, and she made an effort to take control of the conversation again. "Let's say I help you, what do I get out of it?"
"Mmh." Caitlyn stirred her coffee thoughtfully, not at all caught off guard by the question. "What do you want?"
You. My hand on your neck and your lips on mine.
Vi pushed that intrusive thought away. She was definitely way too horny for this conversation. A pretty, icy face, a body carved from marble—and that was it, her brain stopped working. To hell with the fact that the person in front of her was probably unreachable, certainly straight, and probably looked down on her. Powder had always warned her that she had terrible taste in women.