update from sparkleup
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Madison Scott-Clary
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<p>Kay has taken a few days off of work while I am out here, but we wound up intentionally leaving plans fairly loose.</p>
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<p>Kay has taken a few days off of work while I am out here, but we wound up intentionally leaving plans fairly loose.</p>
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<p>I do not know her reason for doing so, but if I am honest, I left plans open ended because I was not sure what we are, or what our dynamic would look like until I arrived here. Are we just friends? Are we on to something more? Is it weird for friends to go out to a nice dinner? A movie ought to be fine, but should that influence the genre?</p>
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<p>I do not know her reason for doing so, but if I am honest, I left plans open ended because I was not sure what we are, or what our dynamic would look like until I arrived here. Are we just friends? Are we on to something more? Is it weird for friends to go out to a nice dinner? A movie ought to be fine, but should that influence the genre?</p>
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<p>I wrote yesterday that we were friends, that we talked like friends, and that that was it, and while I do still stand by that, because that might indeed be the dynamic of our relationship, I still must contend with these strange and awkwardly shaped feelings for her. I cannot say whether or not it would be weird for me to suggest a nice dinner for the both of us<sup id="fnref:money"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:money">5</a></sup> or going to see a romantic film because I cannot say whether or not this unavoidable set of emotions will make it so.</p>
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<p>I wrote yesterday that we were friends, that we talked like friends, and that that was it because that might indeed be the dynamic of our relationship, I still must contend with these strange and awkwardly shaped feelings for her. I cannot say whether or not it would be weird for me to suggest a nice dinner for the both of us<sup id="fnref:money"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:money">5</a></sup> or going to see a romantic film because I cannot say whether or not this unavoidable set of emotions will make it so.</p>
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<p>Either way, I have my list of suggestions and she has mentioned that she has a few ideas of her own, so I suspect that the open-ended nature of our plans won’t lead to excruciating boredom or anything like that.</p>
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<p>Today went well enough, on that note. I slept in, knowing that she would do the same, and stopped by that same café once more for a leisurely coffee and pastry while I waited for her to text me that she was up and about. She gave me the address of her building and the door code to get in, as well as a coffee order, so I topped up my drink and picked up hers in order to head over. It was a pleasant enough walk, as the day had yet to heat up.</p>
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<p>She greeted me at the door in a rumpled tee and pair of shorts, smiled sheepishly at her unready state, and gestured me into her apartment.</p>
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<p>It was a single rectangular room: bed in one corner, desk against the wall next to it, breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the space, not so far removed from a dorm room, minus the fact that she had her own bathroom and closet rather than being forced to share with others.</p>
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<p>A rumpled bed, a messy desk and the almost overwhelming scent of <em>her</em>. I made it two steps into the room and my mind ceased to function. I might as well have grown talons and wings, for all I know, for all I could do was stand there, coffees in hand, and try and blink away memories and too-strong emotions. I remembered her scent as though a lingering thing, faded touches cheek to cheek within my dreams. I remembered it, but I did not remember its strength, it’s depth, it’s overwhelming <em>her</em>-ness. It was inescapable, unavoidable, permeating and so much more than any lingering dream could ever hope to encompass.</p>
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<p>It’s a wonder I was able to hand her the correct coffee.</p>
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<p>I must have had some strange look on my face, as part way through the sip of her mocha, she tilted her head and lowered her cup.</p>
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<p>“Everything alright, Dee?”</p>
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<p>I raced through the masking checklist, realized that my whiskers were bristled almost uncomfortably far, my ears were laid flat, I was blinking rapidly, and my tail was tip-tapping about anxiously. I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, which I did my best to hide behind what I hoped was a bashful expression. “Yeah, sorry,” I managed.</p>
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<p>She frowned all the same and put down her coffee, padding over to the window to wind it open a short ways. “Sorry, maybe should’ve sprayed some block. I bet it stinks in here.”</p>
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<p>“No!” I said, realized that sounded forceful, and added, “No, sorry. Just kind of smells like you, is all, and I feel like I got punched in the face with memories from school.”</p>
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<p>At that, she laughed, though she did leave the window open, a trimmer chattering beneath her window marring her scent with traces of exhaust. “Well, good ones, I hope. Still, I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”</p>
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<p>“It’s fine, Kay, really. Just random memories–” <em>Tell her, tell her, tell her,</em> some part of my mind was urging. It had Jeremy’s voice. “–like going to concerts, or your senior recital.” <em>Tell her!</em> the voice shouted, pounded on the walls, clawed at my insides, all while half-truths spilled from my lips.</p>
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<p>And then, the moment was past.</p>
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<p>“Oh! Speaking of, there’s two nights of that percussion festival, but I figured we’d just hit up the one tomorrow.” She reacquired her coffee and crawled back onto the mussed-up covers of her bed, gesturing me toward her desk chair, the sole other piece of furniture in the studio. “The final night is always the best, because all the stressful master classes and such are over, and everyone is just playing like crazy and really feeling it. At least, that’s how it always is with me and festivals. The days are all filled with classes and the evenings are concerts, and the last one, you’re just riding on some weird music high. Uh…sorry.”</p>
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<p>I had leaned back into the computer chair, which had creaked under my weight, and peeked over at some of the papers on her desk — impenetrable sheet music, for the most part. “Sorry? For what?”</p>
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<p>“Just rambling, I guess.”</p>
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<p>“Goodness, no, you’re fun when you ramble,” I laughed. “I guess I got kind of awkward there, sorry, didn’t mean to pry through your papers.”</p>
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<p>She relaxed back against the wall and let her shoulders slump, holding the coffee in both hands now, tail relaxing from where it had curled around protectively. “Right, yeah. Sorry. I have some folks who very visibly lose interest.”</p>
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<p>“I’m still interested, promise.” I smiled as disarmingly as I could and made an attempt to focus through the scent that still tickled its way through my mind.</p>
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<p>“Well, thanks,” she said, smiling lopsidedly. “I feel kind of weird because, like…um. I mean this in a good way, but I kinda forgot how awkward you are, and remember that I’m awkward as hell too, and that I can just be my awkward-ass self around you ‘cause you’re always listening at a hundred percent or whatever, and if you’re uninterested you’ll just change the subject and…”</p>
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<p>She trailed off and averted her eyes over to the kitchen, focusing on a wayward glass. All the last had come out in a rush of justifications, half-apologies, and self-deprecation.</p>
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<p>“You’re fine, Kay. I’ve gotta be the world’s most awkward coyote, and if you’re the second most awkward, well, we just make a heck of a pair.”</p>
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<p>She puffed out a breath and then took a long sip of her coffee. “Mm, right. I’m out of practice in being around someone as…I don’t know, genuine as you.”</p>
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<p>It all tugged at my heartstrings, and I prayed for the bravery to reassure her. “You seem kind of jittery. Everything alright?”</p>
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<p>“Yeah, I’m just jittery, I guess. Nervous.”</p>
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<p>“Nervous about anything in particular?”</p>
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<p>She squinted over at me, “You’ve gotten good at your therapist voice.”</p>
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<p>I laughed.</p>
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<p>“Nah, I don’t think so,” she continued. Another sip, and then, “I’m realizing how boring I am, and I’m anxious that I’ll bore the shit out of you while you’re here.”</p>
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<p>“There’s no pressure on my end. We could watch videos online for a few days like we would do anyway and it’d still be a vacation for me.”</p>
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<p>“I mean, I wouldn’t turn that down either.” She grinned. “I just don’t have anyone around here like you, so I just kind of do my own thing which is not much.”</p>
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<p>The rest of the day went smoothly. I remember fairly little of it. We got food. We walked to the library and she showed me around. We walked around the campus. We picked up dinner and brought it back to her place where we watched videos as we might have done on any other night.</p>
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<p>I remember very little of the specifics, other than the feelings of the day. The feeling of glowing over her words, <em>someone as genuine as you</em> and <em>anyone around here like you</em> sticking with me as thoroughly as her scent.</p>
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