Chapter Three
Waverly's shift passed quickly, and in a bit of a blur. She moved behind the bar and made the rounds of the tables, refreshing drinks and taking away empties, making small talk with her regulars deftly, but also on autopilot. Her mind not on the grandiose stories and bawdy jokes the old-timers at the bar tried to one up each other with, or the gossip that her former classmates tried to engage her in, or the usual comments about the weather, the crop season or the Purgatory high hockey team's chances or any of the usual chatter that filled her nights. Her thoughts kept returning to a certain red head with warm, chocolate-brown eyes and a sweet, dimpled smile.
Every time the bell above the door jangled she glanced up, a mixture of hope and trepidation as she scoped out who entered, her breath leaving her body in a flat exhale every time it wasn't Nicole who crossed the threshold. She knew it was bordering on pathetic, the desire to see her again, to spend even a few fleeting moment with her, after having spent the whole of an afternoon together but still, she couldn't help but wish that the other woman would stop in for a drink, a chat.
The night wore on and even though there was no sighting of the other woman, Waverly held onto hope until the very last moment. Even as the and the crowd slowly thinned. Even as the last of her customers stumbled out into the cold, dark night. It was only as she turned the Open sign off that she finally gave up. A wave of disappointment rolling over her as she began flipping chairs up onto tables so she could sweep up. It was where pretty much everyone else in town spent their evenings, so why not the department's newest deputy? Unless she had other, more pressing plans for the evening. Waverly paused her actions for a moment as she considered the fact that Nicole may have had something else to do tonight. Like A date.
The thought caused a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach even as she told herself that Nicole was free to date, to see whoever she chose. They weren't dating, after all. Despite her best efforts to convince herself, she couldn't ignore the way the thought of Nicole with someone made her stomach churn.
She shook her head, trying to clear it of such thoughts, and in doing failed to notice that she had missed a half-empty pitcher of beer when she had been bussing tables. The edge of the chair knocked into it as she flipped it up onto the table, the contents sloshing up over the rim and splashing all over her.
"Fuck." Waverly tugged at her shirt, wincing as lukewarm beer seeped through the material and soaked her skin. The smell invading her nostrils, making her head spin. Sighing she pulled the shirt up, over her head, or attempted to. The material got caught in the clasp of her necklace and wouldn't budge.
"We've got to stop meeting like this." The voice in her ear, gently teasing, but also soft and sweet made her jump, an undignified squeak leaving her mouth. The hand on the small of her back, calloused and rough, but infinitely gentle, sent a shiver down her spine. The next thing she knew there was a tug of material and she was free.
She spun around, shivering once again, not sure if it was from the cold air of the bar hitting the skin of her now mostly bare torso or from the heat radiating from Nicole's gaze as her eyes raked over Waverly's half-naked form. She resisted the urge to flinch, to cross her arms and hide away. Instead she stood, breathing heavily, heart racing, but still, submitting to the inspection.
"See something you like, Officer?" From the twitch of Nicole's lips, and the pinking of her cheeks, Waverly would guess that she did, indeed.
"Uh-huh." Nicole swallowed hard as she tore her gaze away from Waverly's chest to meet her eyes.
"I thought, when you saw something you liked, you didn't wait," Waverly issued the challenge, not sure who was more surprised by her boldness, herself, or Nicole, if the way the other woman's eyes bugged out of her head were any indication.
But Nicole didn't let her disbelief deter her, she surged forward, and the next thing Waverly knew she was being pushed backwards onto the table behind her, Nicole's lips hot and urgent descended upon her own. Her hands slid across her skin, leaving burning trails as they traced along the curve of her ribs, across her shoulders, down her back. She wrapped her legs around Nicole's waist and her arms around her shoulders, pulling their bodies flush together. A soft gasp escaped her lips as the edge of Nicole's belt buckle pressed against her center, the subtle friction enough to make her hips jump even though the thick fabric of her jeans. Nicole took the opportunity to slip her tongue between Waverly's parted lips, gliding against her own, coaxing it into a dual. She breathed sharply through her nose, head spinning from both the lack of sufficient oxygen and the sensation of Nicole's hands sliding up her stomach to cup her breasts, thumbs rolling across the hard bud of her nipples over the fabric of her bra. A high, keening sound that she was sure she had never made before bubbled in her throat, but was swallowed by Nicole's deep, insistent kisses.
Waverly's hands had been roaming up and down Nicole's back, digging into her shoulder blades and tracing along the dip at the small of her back and tracing along the contours of her spine, but suddenly the thin cotton material of her shirt seemed too thick of a barrier, her fingers itching to smooth across soft, silky skin. She fisted her hands in Nicole's shirt, bunching the material and tugging it up, only realizing the fallacy in her plan when Nicole had to pull away to allow the garment passage over her head. She immediately missed the feeling of Nicole's mouth on her own, and as soon as the shirt was clear she tossed it away, what happened to it now that it was off of no consequence, and slid her hands into Nicole's hair, pulling her back.
Nicole came willingly, but changed course at the last second, tilting her head and latching her lips onto the side of Waverly's neck. The soft whine of protest at being denied a kiss morphing into a moan as her tongue probed a sensitive spot behind her ear. She threw her head back, eyes screwed shut, fireworks flaring across her lids, as Nicole nipped and sucked her way down her neck, lips dragging, tongue lathing against her skin.
Arousal burned low in her belly, sending heat radiating through her body, leaving her feeling flush, and like her skin was too tight for her body. She couldn't remember ever feeling so turned on in her life.
A low groan tore from her throat as Nicole dipped her tongue beneath the edge of her bra and scraped it across her nipple, before nudging the material aside with her nose and clamping her lips around the hardened bud. No, scratch that, this was the most turned on she had ever been in her life.
"Oh, god. Nicole."
Waverly jerked upright, unsure for a moment what had woken her, heart racing and chest heaving as she struggled to regain her breath as she realized it had been the sound of her own voice in the otherwise silent room that had pulled her from sleep. The dream rushing back to her in technicolor.
"Fuck," Waverly repeated the curse from her dream as she flopped back down onto the pillow and raked a hand through her hair, surprised to find it damp with sweat. It wasn't the only part of her that was wet. She shifted her hips, trying to ease the throbbing between her legs.
Waverly was no stranger to sex dreams, but she had never had one so vivid before. So visceral. She could still feel the damp heat of Nicole's lips on her skin, the fire burning in every nerve ending, solidness of Nicole's body pressing into hers.
This thing with Nicole, her interest in the other woman, she couldn't keep pretending that it was nothing. If they were going to continue to spend time together, she needed to acknowledge that it was not just an innocent friendship. And, she needed to decide what it is she wanted to do about it. Was she really willing to risk potentially blowing up her life to explore this attraction?
A cold chill coursed through her at the thought. Purgatory was not an easy town to grow up in. Waverly had lived under the shadow of her family's sordid history her entire life. The subject of schoolyard taunts and side-ways glances in the street. Pretending not to hear the whispered comments or the saccharine sympathy from former family friends and neighbours. But she had worked hard to win over even the most sceptical of critics, throwing herself wholeheartedly into the community, volunteering at the senior's center, at children's summer camps, the animal shelter and a myriad of other causes and charities. She'd studied fashion magazines and kept up with all the latest trends, joined all the right clubs at school, student council, cheerleading, debate club, studied hard, moved in all the right circles, made all the right friends, every one of her activities aimed at endearing her to her classmates and finally enabling her to shed the legacy of the crazy Earp family. And it had worked. She had made head cheerleader, had been elected student body president and had earned the title of valedictorian. She'd even been voted most liked three out of four years in high school. She finally felt like she could walk around town with her head held high.
Was she really willing to give that up, to go back to being the subject of whispered gossip and derisive stares? It was shallow, and it didn't make her particularly proud of herself for thinking it, but Waverly couldn't help but feel reluctant to give up everything she had worked so hard to achieve. And for what, a fleeting attraction? A little excitement? Even as she tried to justify sticking with the status quo it felt wrong. Like slipping on a sweater that no longer fit.
Mind whirring, needing something to anchor her she reached for her phone, which was resting on the bedside table. She tapped her finger against the screen, and it came to life, lighting up the dark. Her gaze immediately drawn to the two threads of texts that had been waiting for her when she made it back upstairs after her shift. One of which had been active more recently. She clicked that one first, scrolled her way to the top, and began to re-read them.
Champ (12:30pm) u still pissed?
Champ (12:48 pm) babe?
Champ (1:12 pm) look Im sorry
Champ (1:50 pm) y u bein such a bitch
Champ (2:20 pm) u up?
Champ (2:25 pm) ?
Rolling her eyes, Waverly deleted the string of texts without bothering to respond, then opened the second thread.
Nicole (9:00 pm) Hope your shift is going well. 😊
Nicole (9:15) I'm glad you called me. I had a really good time today.
Nicole (9:15 pm) Can't wait to see you this weekend
Nicole (9:30 pm) I know you like to have a plan :p so… I was thinking you could come over? I'll make dinner. We could watch a movie
Nicole (9:40 pm) If that's okay. We don't have to. We could do something else
Nicole (9:40 pm) It's up to you. I just thought it would be fun
Nicole (9:42 pm) We've got a couple days, we'll figure something out
Nicole (10:02 pm) Goodnight, Waverly. Sweet dreams
Waverly couldn't help the grin that tugged at her lips as she read her way through the series of texts. Nicole's sweet sincerity shining through. And so did the cracks in her confidence. That sliver of vulnerability is what made her bordering on cocky persona endearing rather than obnoxious. It gave Waverly a soft, warm and fuzzy sort of feeling, knowing that she could make Nicole feel as off kilter as the other woman made her feel.
When she compared how the two strings of texts made her feel, her decision seemed fairly obvious.