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I walked over to her and stood beside her as she dried her hands on a dish towel. "I owe you an apology," I said.

She shook her head. "No, you don't. You were just calling a spade a spade. It's like knowing you have a pimple on your chin but when you actually see it in the mirror, you're horrified by what you see. I know who I am, I know how others see me, but it was still a bit of a shock to see myself described in words in your article."

"You were right to be angry at me," I told her. "I didn't intend on using you for my article and I am sorry that I betrayed our friendship. To be completely honest, I was...I was jealous."

"Jealous?" she asked, puzzled.

"That night I drove you home," I began to explain, realizing that there was nothing left but to be truthful. "You had forgotten your jacket and so I turned around to bring it back to you. When I pulled up to your house, you were leaving and talking on the phone. Naturally I just assumed that you were going to hook up with that girl you had met at the bar."

She seemed to ponder the memory, hanging her head low and then finally raised her eyes to look at me. "I was talking to Claire - she couldn't sleep. And I was heading over to my parents house. They had locked themselves out."

"I know that now," I admitted. "At the time, I just thought and felt like you had just finished flirting with me and just like that, you were onto the next girl. I was jealous and disappointed and that all came out in the article."

She looked at me suspiciously, and when she spoke, her tone was without anger. "I thought you were straight."

"That didn't stop you from flirting with me, did it?" I asked, half teasingly, relieved that the tension between us was lifting. "As much as you deny it, I know you've been flirting with me.”

She shrugged. "Maybe," she simply said with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She broke eye contact and took off her chef's jacket. She tossed it into a bin against the wall and leaned back against the counter her hands resting on the its edge. She nodded slowly and looked up into my eyes. There was a softness in her gaze and the smirk was gone, replaced by a hesitant smile. "You're right, I have been flirting with you. And I was jealous when you were out on your date with that douchebag."

I returned her smile and took a step closer to her. "So where do we go from here?"

Riley

Good, God. It took everything in me to not slip an arm around her waist and pull her to me when she smiled and asked me in a low and none to innocent tone, "So where do we go from here?"

My mother's voice rang in my ears. 'Godmother or not, Aunt Grace will kill you if you mess with Alex.'

I took a deep breath and fought all the instincts within me and shook my head. I exhaled and gave her a resigned smile and arched eyebrow. "No where. Because you're straight, and on the rebound, and I'm...not good for you."

"I might have only dated men before, but I do know that ever since I met you, I haven't stopped thinking about you," she told me. "I can't stop thinking about you and frankly, I don't want to stop."

Her voice - her soft, calm and soothing voice and British accent pounded away at my resolve. "I’m sorry, Alex," I told her and gripped the counter's edge in a death grip as I fought back my own wants. "I can't."

"Have I misinterpreted your flirtations and what you just told me about you being jealous?" she inquired and took another step closer to me until we were inches apart.

I swallowed hard and slowly shook my head as I peered into her bright blue eyes. There was something about this woman that made it practically impossible for me to lie.

"Then what's holding you back?" she continued to question me and her eyes flitted from my eyes down to my mouth and back up to my eyes.

I broke eye contact with her and stared down at my feet, taking a deep breath and exhaling, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart. I hadn't had these feelings in a long time - sweaty palms, heart pounding in my chest, dry throat, difficulty breathing. Her proximity and the smell of her perfume was making me nervous. This feeling was foreign to me. The last time I was this nervous around a girl was when I was fifteen and kissed my first girl, Heather Law, captain of the girl's basketball team.

"Riley," she said softly, a pleading tone in her voice. "Talk to me."

I forced myself to look back into her eyes. Her crystal blue gaze was intense yet soft at the same time if that was even possible. I licked my bottom lip and bit on it momentarily. I took a deep breath. "I made a promise," I admitted to her one of my two reasons for holding back.

"A promise? Wait, I thought you were unattached," she said, a hint of hurt in her tone as she was reaching the wrong conclusion.

"I, ah," I clarified. "I, um, I promised Aunt Grace that I, uh...that I'd keep my distance."

"Well," she said slowly. "You haven't been doing a very good job of that, now have you?"

"Flirting is one thing," I explained and found myself unable to continue.

She looked at me expectantly and when I didn't continue she attempted to finish the sentence for me, "Hooking up is entirely different."

"Actually," I said slowly and corrected her, "Dating is entirely different."

She narrowed her eyes and paused. "Are you taking the mickey?"

"Pardon?" I asked, confused at the British slang term she just used.

"Since when did you use the term 'dating'?" she asked, an amused smile on her lips.

"Since that night you came into my kitchen wearing a red dress," I confessed. Damn this woman. She was my Kryptonite.

"You liked the dress?" she asked, teasingly, her lips curved into a self-satisfied smile.

I nodded, not trusting my own voice. Her gaze grew intense again and I had to do something to move away from her before I did something that we'd both regret. I exhaled quickly. "It's getting kinda hot in here. Lemme give you a ride home." She gave me one last look, smirked and acquiesced.

I led her out of the restaurant and to my car. On the ride to Grace's house, we chatted idly about what we had been up to in the time we had last seen each other. Despite my initial anger over her article, I had to admit that it was indeed a well written piece and complimented her on it. She revealed that the editor liked it as well and liked her idea of a series of articles on relationships. She promised me that I would not be the subject of any articles for the rest of the series.

When we pulled up to the house, she turned to me. "You know, Riley, I'm a grown woman. Grace can't tell me who I can or cannot date."

"Yeah, but she can no doubt rain down a world of hurt on me," I retorted.

"Are you really that scared of her?" Alex asked, laughing. I chuckled, not answering. The truth was, I wasn't scared of Grace. I was scared of Alex. I was scared of how I felt whenever she was near. I was scared of letting someone into my life again.

"Goodnight, Riley," Alex finally said and reached for the door.

"Alex -" I called out before she could open the door. She turned back, an inquiring look on her face.

"Do you wanna have dinner tomorrow?" I blurted out before I lost my nerve.

She smiled and I felt something melt inside of me. "Absolutely," she answered.

I returned her smile. "I'll call you tomorrow," I told her and she smiled one last time before she got out of the car. I watched and made sure she was inside the house before I drove off.

"Shit!" I cursed out loud. Where the hell was I going to take her for dinner? Ideas started to fly through my head - farmer's market? Santa Monica Pier? West Hollywood? Oh, bloody hell, I had forgotten - I needed a vegetarian friendly place. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts list. I found the number and dialed.

"Bobby, it's Riley, how you doin'?" I asked into the phone. Bobby and I attended the CIA together and he moved out here as soon as we graduated while I stayed in New York. A couple of years before I opened Claire de Lune, he and some investors opened up an upscale vegetarian restaurant called "Fresh" in Santa Monica. I had never been, because quite frankly, I had had no desire to try vegetarian food. It wasn't anything against Bobby because I knew he was a great chef. And I loved vegetables. I just liked them to accompany meat.

"Riley, long time no hear," his New York accent greeted me. "How you doin'?"

"Can't complain," I answered. "Got my health, got my work."

"Still getting the girls?" he teased.

"Still getting the girls," I confirmed. "You?"

"Got two of my own now," he answered and I could hear the pride in his voice. "Two year old twin girls,"

"Congratulations," I told him. "Hey, I know this is totally last minute and I'm livin' on a prayer, but I don't suppose you got room for two tomorrow night do you?"

"Hang on a minute," he answered and I heard him calling out to someone for the reservation book. After a few minutes of chattering, he came back on the line. "Sorry Riley, we're completely booked tomorrow. Since when did you eat vegetarian?"

I chuckled at the question, amused that he had remembered how much of a carnivore I was. "Since I just asked out a vegetarian on a date."

"A date? You?" he questioned in amused disbelief.

"Yeah, me, on a date," I answered. "Who'da thought huh?"

"Hang on a minute," he told me again and I heard some more talking off line. Soon enough I heard his voice again. "I'll set you up with a chef's table. We'll make room for you. How does eight o'clock sound? I gotta see who this woman is who's got you on a date."

"Funny," I told him. "Eight sounds great. Thanks, Bobby. I owe you."

I hung up the phone and drove home, a flurry of emotions stirring inside of me. When I got home, I went upstairs and showered before going to bed. I contemplated just texting her about our date but then realized that firstly, that was just not classy enough for someone like Alex, and secondly, I wanted to call her and hear her voice. Fighting the urge to call her right away, I slipped into bed and eventually fell asleep, a smile on my face.

It took a lot of self control for me to not call Alex as soon as I woke up the next morning, but I forced myself to go shower and change first before I made the phone call. I told her about the dinner and she was curious as to where I was taking her but I refused to tell her. I was informed that Aunt Grace had gone shopping for the day and evening with my mother and the girls, and so I was clear to pick her up from her place for our date. We chatted for a bit and after some insistence that she needed to know what to wear, I told her that we were going for dinner at a friend's place in Santa Monica and hopefully take a stroll on the pier as well. After I got off the phone with her, which I really didn't want to because I couldn't get enough of hearing her voice, I pulled my knees up to my chest, sitting on the window seat, I looked out the bay window of my bedroom. The back of the house overlooked a park which was busy with families and kids having picnics and guys playing football on the grass.

I remembered spending days out at the park with my parents and Sam when we were younger whenever my father wasn't on tour. Despite being a rock star, whenever he was home, my father always made a point of spending as much time with us as he could. Our parents wanted us to have as normal of a childhood and life as possible, which meant that they would take turns driving Sam and I to school, participating in the parent advisory council at our schools and even taking on coaching stints for our soccer teams. I think it surprised a lot of other parents at first when they realized that a famous musician and a super model would even care to take an active role in their children's lives, but once they got over their initial shock, they would see that my parents were just that - my parents. Sam and I didn't know them as anything other than Mom and Dad, but to the rest of the world, they were Rod Carson and Sarah Starks - celebrities.

I suppose I had grown up and shaped my adult life a certain way to the world. I had seen how essentially my parents had two different lives - a life in front of the cameras and the life they led at home with Sam and me, and I fell into the same pattern. At first, I was merely followed and got attention for simply having famous parents. Then, in college, I built up my own reputation with the lesbian crowd in New York City which then followed me to L.A. After I opened Claire de Lune and it became a success, I was getting recognized on my own merits and it felt good. But I continued to live my personal life the best way I knew how and it worked for me. I had different lives - the party life and the professional life. Somewhere along the way, I had lost sight of my own personal life and I hadn't realized it until Alex came into the picture. She saw what everyone else saw - the chef by day and player by night who slept with anyone and everyone.

Had it been anyone else, I would have been fine with it, but after I read her article, I realized that I had wanted her to see more than the public Riley. I wanted her to see the private Riley. The problem was, it had been so long since I had seen the private Riley who had fears and insecurities that I wasn't sure I even knew how to show that side of me anymore. All of a sudden, I felt nervous, scared even, about the date.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," I called out and Lenny poked her head in.

"Hey," she said and then paused, a look of both surprise and curiosity on her face. "I don't think I've ever seen you sit there before." She came into my bedroom and sat down across from me.

"Where's Gabriella?" I asked looking back at the doorway.

"She's gone shopping with her mom and sisters," Lenny answered. "You okay?"

I gave her a "what are you talking about?" look.

"You look... off," she elaborated.

I was going to brush off her concern but then decided against it. Lenny was my best friend. If I couldn't talk to her, then what was the point of having a best friend, right? "I guess you can say I am feeling a bit 'off'."

"You still pissed off at Alex?" she asked. "I thought you might have made up last night."

I shook my head then shrugged. "We did make up," I answered. "I wasn't ever really pissed off at Alex. I was more pissed off at myself."

"Why?"

"Because that image, that vision that she has of me," I replied. "That's not how I wanted to be seen by her." I looked out the window, prepared for the teasing that was about to come my way.

"You really like her don't you?" Lenny asked in a surprisingly soft tone. I looked at her to see if she was smirking or setting me up for a good bashing but I saw nothing but sincerity in her face.

I nodded. "I can't stop thinking about her."''

"I know you said she's straight, but I've seen the way she looks at you," Lenny started. "I think she's gay for you."

"I know," I said, a smile threatening to explode.

"What do you mean you know?" Lenny inquired, her eyes accusing me of holding back information.

"We talked last night after you and Gabriella left and I drove her home," I told her. "I asked her out. On a date."

Lenny's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "You, Riley Carson, asked someone out on a date?"

I nodded in the affirmative. "We're going out tonight."

Lenny shook her head as if she was waking herself up from a dream.

"I'm scared as hell, Lenny," I confessed.

She must've heard the fear in my voice because she stopped her joking and grew serious. "Why?"

"I haven't been on a date in over ten years," I admitted.

"But you have been out with women," Lenny pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's always just been about sex," I answered. "It's different with Alex. I...I actually want to get to know her."

"Well, then I think we should go have lunch, go pick up some nice flowers that you're going to bring to her, and figure out what you're going to wear," Lenny said and stood up. She held out her hand and smirked. "Come on, Casanova."

Part 3
Alex

After my conversation with Riley, the blissful feeling that had resided in me from the moment I answered the phone was slowly being replaced by a feeling of panic. I had never even thought about the idea of being attracted to a woman before much less go on a date with one. I wasn't getting cold feet. I just didn't know what to expect. I picked up the phone again and dialed a long distance number.

"Hello?" the familiar voice answered.

"Jules, it's Alex," I greeted my one and only lesbian friend I had back in London. "How are you?"

"Alex! Oh my God, I'm good. It's about time you called! How are you?" she asked me excitedly.

"I'm alright, thanks," I told her and then bit the bullet. "Listen, Jules, I need your advice."

"Fire away, chickee," she told me.

"I have a date tonight," I began and then took a breath. "With a woman."

"Oi? Say that again. I think my mobile's gone bonkers on me," she said and I knew she had heard me loud and clear.

"I have a date with a woman," I repeated.

"That's what I thought I heard you say," Jules said and then asked, "Are you taking the piss?"

"No, I'm not. Can we move on with this conversation, please?" I asked.

"Alright then," she said, calming down. "Tell me all about her and when you decided you were going to shag a woman."

"I'm not shagging her," I corrected her but then the panic set in again. "At least I don't think so. Not on the first date -- do I? I mean that's why I'm calling. I don't know what to do or expect."

"Relax, Alex," Jules said to me this time. "Right, tell me about her. Who is she? Where'd you meet her? Who asked who out?"

"Her name's Riley," I answered. "She's Grace's goddaughter."

"Wait -" Jules cut me off. "If she's Grace's goddaughter...how old is she?"

"She's thirty," I answered and braced myself for the ribbing.

"Thirty?" Jules repeated. "Well done, Alex."

"Oh, God," I said, covering my eyes with my hand. "Jules, I'm forty. I'm too old for her. Am I too old for her?"

"No, darling," Jules replied. "Of course not. So, her name's Riley, she's Grace's goddaughter and she's thirty."

"She's a chef," I explained. "She has her own restaurant and she's very talented. Anyway, we met shortly after I moved here and we kept running into each other. At any rate, long story short, I found myself attracted to her and we talked about it and she asked me out to dinner. Tonight."

"You talked about your attraction to her?" Jules asked. "Christ, you haven't even been on a date yet and already you're talking and processing like a seasoned lesbian."

"Can we focus please?" I asked, drawing her back to my reason for calling her.

"So she's gay?" Jules asked for confirmation.

"Yes, and she's out," I answered. "And she's...let's just say she's quite experienced when it comes to women."

"And are you ready for that? To be out in public on a date with not just another woman, but an out gay woman?" Jules asked.

"I hadn't given that much thought," I answered honestly. "I've just been excited at the idea that she's attracted to me too. But I have no idea what to expect. Do lesbians snog on the first date? Do they shag? What have I gotten myself into?"

"Relax - it's nothing different than if you're going out on a date with a man. Dress to kill, try to relax and have a good time." Jules advised and I felt a sort of relief wash the panic away. "As for the snogging and shagging, it depends. How well do you know her? Is she the type that would shag on the first date? Do you know that much about her?"

The panic flared up again. "From what I've heard and from her own admission, she doesn't date, she 'hooks up' with women," I answered.

"I see," Jules said and I could hear the hesitation in her voice. "But she did ask you out on a proper date, right?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I just talked to her on the phone and she said she was taking me to a friend's restaurant for dinner and then maybe we'd go for a walk."

"Did it come off like she was looking to just shag you, you know, conquer the new curious girl?" Jules asked.

"I don't think so," I answered. "At first, after I told her that I couldn't stop thinking about her, she didn't want to get involved because she had promised Grace to stay away from me. But then she drove me home and she asked me to dinner."

"I'd be interested in meeting this girl," Jules said mischievously.

"Oi, that's my date you're talking about there," I scolded her and she laughed. "So, what do I wear on my first date with a lesbian?"

The doorbell rang and I ran my hands down my white dress. Despite Riley's admission that the snug red number I had worn on my last date was appealing to her, I had opted for a white dress that wasn't as tight fitting and more comfortable should we end up going for a walk out on the pier. The dress had a V-neck which was cut low enough to show enough skin, yet remained tasteful.

I opened the door and whatever reservations I had about our date dissipated. There she was, standing at the door, her blond hair styled in that adorable wind swept look and a shy look on her face. We locked eyes and we both froze for a brief moment. Then she smiled that irresistible lopsided smile of hers. "Hi," she said and I melted. She held out a bouquet of white calla Lillie's. "These are for you."

"Thank you," I said and invited her in. I took the flowers from her and led her into the kitchen so I could put the flowers in some water. As I filled a vase with water, she unwrapped the flowers from the clear cellophane. She was wearing dark trousers and a bluish-grey lace and satin corset top with spaghetti straps. She picked the flowers up and placed them in the vase and looked at me and smiled. I could have sworn that I felt a reserved shyness to her and I felt even more attracted to her. We left the house and out to her car. When she led me to her car, I noted her strong arms and square shoulders and saw that she had a few more tattoos on the back of her upper arm and upper back. I had never had the urge to get any tattoos myself but on Riley, they looked incredibly sexy.

When we got to the restaurant, we were ushered through the dining room all the way into the kitchen, which was visible to the dining room through large windows and glass doors. We were seated at a small table for two with a perfect view of the kitchen and the pass where the food was served up to the wait staff. A tall and solidly built man in a chef's jacket came over to greet us and Riley stood up and gave him a hug. She introduced him as Bobby, the executive chef and part owner of the restaurant, as well as an old friend from "cooking school". Their modesty at calling a culinary institute a "cooking school" as well as their non-pretentious, good natured conversation about Bobby's twin daughters was like night and day compared to my last date who had tried to impress me with his "connections".

"I never thought I'd see the day that Riley would be on a date," Bobby told me and I could see a slight blush on my dinner companion's cheeks. "Nor did I ever think she'd step foot in here."

"Why not?" I asked, wondering if there was a rivalry between the two chefs.

"No meat," Riley answered and it took me a minute to realize what she had said.

"You mean this is a vegetarian restaurant?" I asked completely surprised.

She nodded and said "Only the best vegetarian restaurant in the city."

"So do you ladies want to order off the menu or do you want to be surprised?" Bobby asked us and Riley looked at me, deferring the decision to me.

"I think it'd be an insult to not put ourselves in your hands," I told him and he smiled.

"I like her already," he told Riley. He turned to our waiter who was filling our water glasses and asked him to bring out a certain bottle of wine and then went on his way back to the kitchen to bark orders at his cooks.

"I don't know what to say," I said, once we were alone. "A self-described meatatarian in a place that doesn't serve meat."

"Yeah well, I guess it was time I learned to eat vegetables," she said smiling.

"Thank you," I said, more seriously as I hadn't expected this at all. I had thought we'd just go somewhere where I'd just have to order a vegetarian version of a dish, like every other date I had ever been on. This was a first time in which the dining place of choice was selected solely for my benefit. The wine was brought out and Riley deferred the tasting to me. Slowly the food began to make an appearance and dish after dish, I was amazed at how the chef was able to bring out all the beautiful flavors of both exotic and ordinary vegetables and combined them expertly. Over the course of dinner, we shared stories of our childhoods, what it was like for me to have an older sister and for her to have a younger sister. We also discussed her tattoos and I learned that she had five of them - the two which I had already seen on her wrists, one on her left tricep which was a drawing Claire had made for her of the two of them standing hand in hand, one on her left upper back consisted of four zodiac signs, one for each member of her family, and lastly a tattoo of a Bodhi tree on her right upper back. Our conversations flowed easily and I was beginning to see how easy it would be to fall for Riley Starks Carson.

After dinner, we walked the short distance from the restaurant down to the beach. We found the boardwalk and followed it towards the famed Santa Monica Pier which, even from the distance, sounded and looked alive with people. I wondered if we would actually go to the pier as it was quite crowded and I thought that perhaps Riley would've wanted to go somewhere more quiet and, well, private. We hadn't made any physical contact yet tonight and I wondered what I would do if she wanted to, say, hold my hand in public. After talking to Jules, who's advice was to "just go with it and do what feels right", I had decided that I would be okay with holding her hand in public, regardless of what other people might think. Just being out with her tonight and spending time with her, I wasn't thinking about our date as a "lesbian date". I just saw it as a date between two people who enjoyed each other's company.

As we walked along the boardwalk, she was close by my side, but not close enough for contact. And as we got closer and closer to the pier, it became apparent that she was not going to make contact. I wondered if she was shy and nervous as the dating scenario was new to her as well, or was she just not attracted to me as maybe I had hoped she would be. We walked around the pier, looking at the various shops and watching the entertainers and I felt as if I had known her a lifetime. We joked and chatted and I felt completely comfortable in her presence. She got us tickets for the ferris wheel and eventually we got into one of the passenger cars and sat back to take in the view. The first time we got to the top I felt the ocean breeze and while it wasn't cold, it wasn't warm either. I involuntarily rubbed my upper arms and she draped her jacket over my shoulders. I thought for sure she would keep her arm around me but instead, she just sat back, her hands clasping on to her small purse on her lap. We sat side by side, our upper arms touching and she proceeded to point out various landmarks to me whenever we were up high enough. Every once in a while, I would catch a trace of her perfume which had a citrus hint to it. It was clean and refreshing. It suited her perfectly.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-16