Beneath the Surface(8)

“That doesn’t sound like gibberish to me at all.”

“And that from someone who works in the wine industry.”

“I don’t really see myself as working in the wine industry per se. I work in marketing.”

“Fair enough.” Sheryl deposited her cutlery on her plate.

“So what about your parents?” Kristin asked, kind of out of the blue. In the context of a date, and in light of what Kristin had told Sheryl about her own parents already, it was a logical question, but Sheryl wondered at the timing of it. Or maybe Kristin had a strongly developed sense of female intuition.

“My mother died a long time ago and my father and I are not close.” Sheryl didn’t say anything more, but it was always interesting to see how people reacted to a conversation-stopper like that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kristin said. She genuinely looked sorry, too. As long as she didn’t pity Sheryl. Or ask any follow-up questions. Ironically, it was when questions like these came up, that Sheryl hankered for the unknown effects of a drink the most. “That must not have been easy.”

If anything, Kristin displayed great empathy, and frankly, the woman was so gorgeous, so kind, so easy to be around, that Sheryl wouldn’t hold any reaction against her.

“Do I look like someone who has led a hard-knock life?” Sheryl leaned back and opened her arms.

Kristin laughed. “You look beautiful.” Her voice had gone earnest.

Sheryl responded in kind. “So do you.” That short black hair. Those dark, expressive eyes. The warm color of her skin. Sheryl remembered last night’s dance. She had wanted to pull Kristin a whole lot closer than she actually had, but didn’t think it appropriate for a first dance—a first real contact.

Kristin’s smile grew wider. “Is this where we cross over into the super mushy part of the date?”

“Either that or we have dessert,” Sheryl said, deflating some of the tension that had mounted.

“I do love a nice piece of pavlova.” Kristin narrowed her eyes to slits at the last word, and Sheryl couldn’t help but feel that Kristin was not talking about a fruit-topped meringue.



Kristin was exhausted but elated as they stood outside the restaurant. Summer was in full swing, but mid-December evenings in Sydney were usually cooler and pleasant.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“I guess that depends,” Sheryl said. “How early do your marketing duties start tomorrow morning?”

“No matter what happens tonight, work will start too early tomorrow, so that’s really not a factor.” Kristin had ended up having only one glass of wine with dinner—out of a strange sense of solidarity with Sheryl and her non-drinking habits—but it seemed to have gone straight to her head. Or maybe it was something else causing the headiness in her brain, the lightness in her feet despite the fatigue, and the will for this evening to never end, no matter how early she had to get up in the morning.

“I live just two blocks away. I don’t have much to offer in the way of nightcaps and I’d venture a guess that we’ve had enough coffee and tea for one day, but I do have a lovely bottle of mineral water itching to be opened,” Sheryl said.

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.” Kristin already loved the way Sheryl used ten words when two would suffice. The intensity in her eyes when she explained something. Even the way she held back when it came to certain, too personal, topics. Kristin was not raised to overshare, nor to be overly emotional. She recognized a certain stoicism in Sheryl that she could appreciate. A restraint that she, too, craved. Though, as they walked to Sheryl’s building, she hoped all restraint would be loosened when it came to their first kiss. She already wanted it so badly, had found herself staring at Sheryl’s mouth as she spoke—even as she ate—with growing impatience, wondering what these lips would feel like on hers, and somehow knowing they would be impossibly soft and so, so right.

Every time she was preparing for a date with Petra, Kristin had been hopeful and had tried to convince herself that she’d finally found what she was looking for. But every passionless date had confirmed a little more that it was not enough. And now, walking through the falling night with Sheryl, she knew for certain she’d been right. This was how it was supposed to feel, this was it.

When they rounded a corner, and bumped into each other inadvertently, Sheryl took the opportunity to grab for Kristin’s hand and held it in hers for the rest of the walk. As their steps echoed on the sidewalk, Kristin felt the realization flare somewhere deep inside of her that she wasn’t just walking in the direction of Sheryl’s apartment, but toward something a lot bigger than that.