"I don't know what to do, Judy. This feels impossible."
Judy's carefully set her wine down on the nightstand beside her before reaching out with caution, shaking gently as she placed her hand on Jen's arm. Her touch carried with such passion it was as if her whole arm was set ablaze.
"Oh, no. I know."
Judy's voice was unexpected. It was low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint of more power than her small body would suggest. Jen swallowed roughly, her pupils darting between the TV and her bed. Suddenly, the heat from Judy's fingers creeps into her consciousness and tilted Jen's head up to face her. Touch. So long without it that she didn't want it anymore. It was an invasion, an unwanted intimacy. Oh, but Judy had eyes as open and honest as any child, a warmth and safety. When she looked at Jen it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from her lungs, floating into the air like midnight smoke. Her chestnut doe eyes shimmered under the layer of unshed tears and her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless gold, an ocean of hopeless grief. As Jen looked into her eyes she knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with Judy.
"I'm right here."
Jen let out a scoff, pulling her head away. Silently, the pearl-shaped tears rolling down Jen's cheeks from her wide luminous eyes.
"I didn't realize I had it so good when I was just, like, regular unhappy."
"God, I would kill for some down-the-middle depression right now."
They both chuckled bitterly, reminiscing in silence. Soon, both of the women turned back to the TV.
The sobs were stifled at first as she attempted to hide her grief, but Judy let go once Jen turned her head to face her and she knew she had been caught. She had been overcame by the wave of her emotions, all her defenses washed away in her salty tears.
"Shit. I'm sorry." Judy whispered desperately.
"It's like I forget for a second, and then I just remember about Steve."
"Yeah." Jen looked down. The guilt was like gasoline in her guts. Her insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze.
"I know we weren't even together anymore but, suddenly, I can't imagine my life without him."
Jen pursed her lips. She knew she had no right to be jealous. Yet, she couldn't help the slight boil in her blood every time Judy mentioned Steve, or maybe it was because she missed her and Steve's toxic relationship more than theirs. Just the thought of it stung like hell. They were only together for, maybe, a month or so, but it was the happiest she had been in a while. Jen shook her head, shaking off the distant thoughts of life with Judy. She looked back up at Judy.
"Can...can I give you a hug?"
Judy refused to look away, even as her lips trembled and her shoulders heaved with emotion, unwilling to back down. Her dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears as Jen wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against Judy's. Judy sunk into the warmth of her side, appreciative of the simple gesture. Jen's touch made the room warmer somehow, her future within its walls seeming a little less bleak. After a while, Judy's tears came to a halt and her eyes focused on the show on the TV, though her thoughts were racing. Even though she had only been gone for a day or two, Judy missed being in Jen's arms. She shifted slowly, looking up at Jen. Jen could sense her eyes on her and met her gaze. Jen's eyes are so different in moments like these, more soft than Judy knew eyes could be. The Jennifer Harding was gone and instead it was the eyes of one who loved deeply. If it were anyone else Judy would drop her gaze, but with her she was drawn in closer, always wanting more.
Jen had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. She was all about simplicity, making things easy, helping Judy to relax and be happy with what they have. Perhaps that is why her skin glowed so, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled and laughed Judy couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. She hated what Ted had done to her, almost to a point where she was glad she ran over that asshole. Anyone would be lucky to have Jen, and she wished Jen would understand that. Jen's breathing became softer, the pensive look still lingering on her face. Her body squirms just a little as her muscles relax. There is something about that gaze of Judy's she'll never find in another person, as if in that moment their souls have made a bridge. Judy reached out, tucking Jen's hair behind her ear, her thumb brushing along her cheek in the process.
Slowly, inexorably, Judy pressed her lips against Jen's. It was soft and gentle and chaste and maybe there was no fireworks or sparks, but it was better than that – it was a wave of warmth that filled her up, spilling out from her heart and the warmth of Jen's lips on hers and rushed to every corner of her body. Every inch of her was saturated with love. Judy only pulled away once she needed to breathe. They stared awkwardly into each others eyes, and Judy was slowly leaning back in. Jen placed a lone finger on Judy's lips.
"Not here."
Jen shook her head, slowly running a tired hand over her face.
"This used to be his bed..."
"Well, we did it here, like, ten times already."
"Well, that was before I knew you hit my husband. God, you sure do know how to ruin a moment, Judy."
Jen laughed. It was a sound Judy hadn't heard in a thousand years and it was a sound she would wait another thousand to hear.
"I'm just saying."