Thanks everybody!
Miranda woke slowly, her mind quickly registering the warm embrace she was in. It was a foreign feeling, but a wonderful one. Stephen had held her like this every night during their honeymoon, but once they returned to New York, he never initiated any contact. It felt nice. Blinking her long lashes to rid them of any sleep, she gasped quietly when she realized she was laying on top of a woman. A beautiful woman. A solid heartbeat sounded in her ear, and Miranda tried to lift herself up, only to find that an arm curled around her back prevented her from doing so fully. She propped herself up halfway, placing her arm in the small space by Andrea's side, and gazed at the young woman. Dark smudged eyeliner and mascara resided underneath closed lashes, and the Editor felt a pang when she remembered that the writer's boyfriend had broken up with her. Gently resting her hand on Andrea's shoulder, she reached up with her other hand to wipe away the makeup before snatching her fingers away quickly with a blush on her cheeks. Flushing, Miranda settled back down in her original position, and rested her head on Andrea's smooth chest, hiding her burning cheeks. Unconsciously, she nuzzled Andrea's décolletage and pressed her face closer to the soft, pale skin. Suddenly, the other woman stirred, and Miranda went still. There was a big yawn, and then a shocked gasp. The Editor tensed, sure that the other woman would toss her off and stomp out the door, but instead, an arm tightened sweetly around her body and the lovely British accent murmured, "Good morning Miranda."
Raising her head, Miranda was greeted with deep brown eyes looking at her tenderly. "You remember my name?" she asked in disbelief.
"Of course," Andrea blushed and look down. "I could never forget you."
"Oh," Miranda said, stunned.
Andrea smiled at her shyly, and Miranda felt an overwhelming feeling of compassion towards this woman.
"Sleep well?" she asked and propped herself up on her elbow, ridding the other woman of her weight, and trying to convince herself that the fleeting look Andrea had on her face was not one of disappointment.
"Yes, did you?" Andrea rolled her head back and rubbed her neck. "My brother has a surprisingly comfy couch."
"I did, thanks to you," Miranda sat all the way up, feeling self-conscious.
Andrea propped herself up on her elbows and lowered her lashes. "I apologize for my intrusion last night. I don't really remember anything but crying hysterically."
Miranda opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a shrill ring. They both cringed at the noise, and Andrea reached over to pick up the phone on the table. "It's Caroline," she said and then averted her eyes. "Sorry," she mumbled.
Miranda took the phone from the brunette's outstretched hand, and then swiftly stood up and walked into the hallway for privacy. Andrea flopped back down on the couch, feeling like an idiot. She could just imagine the impression she gave the other woman. Miranda radiated sophistication, power, and beauty. Andrea looked down at her own outfit and grimaced. The North Face was a Christmas present from her parents four years ago, and the jeans she could barely afford after three paychecks. Plus, if the phone ID showed anything, Miranda probably already had a girlfriend who was rich and successful. Andrea groaned slightly. What did she have to offer? She stood up and made her way to the bathroom. As she was washing her hands, she looked in the mirror and almost screamed when she saw her eyes. She looked like a drunk panda. Reaching up with her wet hand, Andrea furiously scrubbed the dark makeup away, leaving pink streaks behind where the pale skin was aggravated. With the makeup gone, she swept out of the bathroom, almost running into Miranda.
"Where are you going?" the soft voice crept up Andrea's spine and sent a small shiver through the writer's body.
"Er, I'm going home," Andrea weakly pointed to the door. "I have to get changed...and stuff."
"Stuff?" while the other woman's tone was downright scary, her eyes twinkled and Andrea could feel herself relax.
"Why do you want to know?" she crossed her arms and smiled at the other woman. "Have something else in mind?"
"Would you care to join me for lunch?" Miranda said cooly.
"I have the perfect restaurant in mind," Andrea smiled. "How do you feel about Italian food?"
Emily blearily blinked open her eyes and froze immediately when she felt another body pressed flush against her own. She looked down, and sighed in relief when she realized she was wearing a large men's shirt. At least she wasn't naked. A warm set of lips pressed against her neck, and Emily immediately regretted that fact. She rolled over and looked in the warm eyes of David.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi," he responded with a grin and leaned in for a kiss.
After they had finished with the tea the night prior, Nigel had returned, and the three of them went out for dinner. While David had raised an eyebrow at how little food Emily ate, he didn't comment on it. Emily had invited David over to her small apartment afterwards, and they had climbed on the roof and toasted the stars. One thing led to the next, and soon, they were in bed together. Emily smiled into the warm kiss and touched the side of his face tenderly.
"Ready for some breakfast?" David beamed. "I'm actually a really good chef."
"A man of many hidden talents I see," Emily propped herself up on her elbow. "Unfortunately, I'm not hungry right now."
"We burned off a lot of energy last night," David waggled his eyebrows. "Surely you must have some room?"
Emily snorted but shook her head. "I'm really not that hungry, thank you though."
David frowned. "You ate nothing for dinner last night."
Emily frowned too, a headache beginning to form. "So?" she sat up and glared at him.
"Nothing," David held up his hands in surrender. "I just wish you could see yourself the way I do."
"And how is that?" Emily rolled her eyes, her pleasant mood dissipating quickly.
"Beautiful," he pushed himself up and maintained eye contact.
"Oh please," Emily narrowed her eyes to prevent the tears from falling. "I'm fat. Fat fat fat."
"You are not!" David said vehemently and then tried to calm himself after he saw the scared look on Emily's face. "It's insulting to women who really are…larger. You are slender, and frankly, I believe you could benefit from gaining some weight."
Emily sat, speechless. Years and years of being in the fashion industry had taught her that her thighs should be skinnier than they were, her waist should be a perfect 22 inches, and her hips should be practically nonexistent. Yes it was a ruthless industry, but it was also Emily's passion. So she tried to shed the weight, forcing herself to stick to a strict diet. Soon, after months of starving herself with minimal results, one of the Runway models had taken pity on her and showed her the Holy Grail of diets-the cheese cube. Eat one cube every time she felt faint, and nothing else. It had worked wonders, and the redhead felt a huge amount of satisfaction and pride whenever an outfit was too loose on her. Sure she got sick easily, and her menstrual cycle had stopped, but it was worth it to be living her lifelong dream. And now, here was this gorgeous man telling her that she was too skinny. Emily felt tears well up in her eyes and she sniffled pathetically, silently cursing herself. She had built thick walls around her insecurity, and apparently all it took for them to come crashing down was a dreamy British man telling her she needed to gain weight.
"Oh shite," David's voice was compassionate, and he drew her in his arms. "Em, I'm sorry. Don't cry. You're perfect the way you are."
"You don't t-think I'm t-too skinny?" Emily hiccuped and allowed herself to seek comfort in the embrace.
"I think you'd be beautiful no matter what size you are," David kissed her nose. "I just don't want to see you starve yourself."
"I can't help it," Emily burst into a fresh round of tears. "I can't," she whispered.
"Em," David said quietly, and held her tightly to his chest. "Shh. We'll get through it together."
Andrea peered over her menu, stealing a glance at the wonderful woman across from her. The Editor's glasses rested low on her slightly crooked nose, and the brunette felt a wave of tenderness when she studied the other woman. She was wearing a dark purple dress that hung perfectly on pale shoulders, and revealed a hint of cleavage. Andrea shifted in her seat, feeling heat creep up her neck at the thought of Miranda's breasts. Almost on cue, the older woman spoke, making the brunette almost fall off her chair.
"See anything you like?" Miranda chuckled silently to herself when she saw Andrea jump in her peripheral. The writer tried to bury her face in her menu, and the Editor grinned at the other woman's actions behind her own menu.
"Er, I'm probably going to get the Spaghetti with King Prawns," Andrea blushed. "And you?"
"I'm going to order the Penne con Salmone," Miranda lowered her menu.
"Great," Andrea said, and set her menu down as well, smiling warmly at the older woman.
Miranda returned it with a small smile of her own, and looked around the restaurant. The ceilings were high, and the interior was modern, giving it a light and airy feel. Miranda had been skeptical at first when they had reached the place, the outwards appearance being slightly foreboding. Being a solid brick building with the word "garage" painted on it and nothing else made the place seem a little…unfriendly. But Andrea, with her beaming smile, had urged Miranda to follow her inside, promising that she would not be harmed. Of course, she was right. Miranda had absolutely nothing to worry about. She approved of the interior design, and the menu was reasonably priced. It cost considerably less than Smith and Wollenskys, but Miranda had confidence that their food would match her expectations.
"Did you know Prezzo Restaurant was previously a fire station and an auction house?" Andrea unwrapped her napkin and folded it in her lap. "My best friends, Lily and Doug, introduced me to this place a long time ago, and it's been our weekly hideout."
"Hideout?" Miranda raised her eyebrow. "From what?"
"Work," Andrea shrugged. "Life."
"Ah," Miranda said, wishing in that moment that she had a hideout to which she could escape to.
A blonde waitress came and took their orders, staring at Miranda as if she had a second head when the soft-spoken woman placed her order, before she hurried away.
"Geez, I wonder what her problem is," Andrea looked at the retreating woman's back before turning her attention back to Miranda.
"Hmm," Miranda said with a curve in her mouth.
"What?" Andrea chuckled.
"Oh, nothing," Miranda casually traced her fingertip around the rim of her water glass. Then she lifted it, and waited until the brunette did the same before she said, "To hiding from the rest of the world." Andrea giggled, and clinked her glass against Miranda's.
Their lunch was lovely, both women enjoying the other's company immensely. They shared stories from their everyday lives, as well as their childhood-well Andrea shared funny stories from her childhood while Miranda looked at her fondly and chuckled in the right places. Miranda couldn't remember a time when she felt more connected to another person as she gazed into the chocolate pools that shimmered with intelligence and wit. The young woman had proven to be a delightful source of company, and Miranda felt a pang when she remembered she was here on holiday, and would have to say goodbye to this wonderful woman. Andrea noticed Miranda's sudden quietness, and she waved the waitress over, who was still staring at Miranda with wide eyes. The brunette swiftly slipped some British pounds into the bill and nodded to the waitress.
"Thank you for a great meal," Andrea said warmly and stood to put on her jacket.
The waitress nodded dumbly and then scurried away. Andrea shrugged and walked around to the other side of the table to help Miranda into her own coat.
"Thank you," the Editor said, placing her hand on Andrea's forearm. "You didn't have to get lunch."
"It was my pleasure," Andrea grinned. "Let's get out of here before our waitress has a full-on heart attack."
She led the older woman to the door, unconsciously placing her hand on the small of Miranda's back in both a protective and possessive manner. They walked out of the restaurant, and were hit with a burst of cold air. Shivering, Andrea stuck her hands in her pockets, and tucked her chin deeper in her collar. Miranda shivered too, but it was less noticeable than the young woman. Suddenly her phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket. Flipping it open, she said in a warm voice, "Hello Cassidy."
Andrea fell back a few paces, and frowned at the older woman's back. Caroline. Cassidy. ….Andrea. She sighed and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets before trailing after the beautiful woman, her spirits dampening with every step she took.