Bonnie snapped open the lid of her Tupperware container and inhaled the burst of fragrance from within. Taking up the fork she'd brought in from home, the brunette dug into her lunch, savoring the mint and coriander flavors. Around her, the cafeteria bustled with the usual crowd of students and staff. Normally, Bonnie ate there only if she'd made arrangements for lunch with one of her colleagues, but after an entire weekend alone in her apartment, she felt the need to be around people, even if she was the only one at her table.
"Howdy, stranger." A voice broke into her silent meal. "This seat taken?"
Bonnie glanced up, surprised by the interruption. Joss grinned at her, the shorter woman carrying a tray loaded with what the cafeteria promised was food. Mouth full, the brunette nodded, gesturing for the Montanan to take a seat. Shit, she asked if it was taken, and I just nodded. The brunette forced herself to swallow down the food so she could talk, but her throat rebelled at the sudden demand, and only by clamping her lips down hard did Bonnie avoid spraying the entire table with salad. Instead she just made an explosive snort.
Certain her face was now flame red, Bonnie ducked her head and resolutely swallowed down the food.
"Please sit." She managed at last, voice hoarse.
"Sorry fer catchin' you with yer mouth full." The younger woman slide her tray onto the table and dropped down into the chair Bonnie had indicated.
"It's okay." Bonnie waved away the apology and took a gulp of iced tea to soothe her still-complaining throat.
"That smells great." Joss leaned forward to peer into Bonnie's container. "What is it?"
"Thai-style salad." The older woman glanced at the items on Joss's tray and raised her eyebrows. "It's certainly more appetizing than what passes for food in this place."
"Yer got that right." The Montanan picked up her own fork and prodded dubiously at the pallid mound on the center plate. "I ain't exactly a fussy eater, and I figured mac'n'cheese was hard to mess up ..." She wrinkled her nose. "... but I think they found a way."
"At least you made a sound choice for dessert." Bonnie pointed at the other plate on Joss's tray. "The muffins here are actually pretty good. What is that, blueberry?"
"Yep." Joss grinned and leaned back. Sunlight from a nearby window splashed across her face, and the color of her eyes shifted from light brown to an almost golden green. Their sudden glow took Bonnie's breath away, and it was a few seconds before she realized the Montanan had asked her something.
"Sorry ... I missed that."
Joss grinned again, leaning forward to tap the muffin with a finger.
"I said 'So you do have a secret vice, after all'." Her impish tone took away any sting from the words, and Bonnie laughed.
"I have plenty of vices, secret and otherwise." She'd meant the remark as a joke, but there was enough truth to the admission that she felt a flush of shame. Time for a change of topic. "How was your weekend?"
"Pretty good. I took Aimee up to Atlanta on Saturday."
Bonnie smiled, relieved that Joss didn't seem to have picked up on her moment of unease.
"You make it sound like you and Aimee were on a date."
"Well, she is the number one girl in my life." Joss grinned and took a mouthful of macaroni. She chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, then grabbed the ketchup bottle, squirted a liberal amount onto her plate, and stirred it into the food.
"Gross." Bonnie wrinkled her nose at the now-pink concoction. Joss shrugged.
"At least this way it will taste of something."
"Just nothing I'd want to eat."
"Food snob."
"Absolutely." Bonnie grinned, feeling much more comfortable with the lighter tone of the conversation. "Life is too short to eat bad food."
"You are an amazing cook, you know." Joss pointed her fork at the older woman. "That's an unfair advantage over the rest of us."
"I thought you said you could cook?" Bonnie challenged, lightly. Joss snorted.
"I can cook. Steak. Eggs. Chili. That sort of thing. Nothing like what you're capable of." Joss propped her chin on her hand. "You must have done some fancy cooking classes as a kid, right?"
Bonnie laughed.
"God, no. Rockwallers don't cook. They have people to do that for them." She shook her head. "Until I came down here, I never even made my own coffee."
"Really?" Joss's surprise was evident. "So how'd yer end up as Iron Chef Bonnie?"
"Iron what?"
"Man. Do you watch any cult TV?"
"Does Pals count?"
"So not." Joss's response sounded so like Kim in that moment that Bonnie gave a startled laugh. Catching the other woman's quizzical look, she waved a hand.
"Sorry. Just a while since I heard that expression." The brunette was silent for a moment, wondering if she should tell the whole story. No. This isn't the time or the place for that. "When I came here, I didn't know anyone, and I didn't have the money to order take-out every night. So I bought a cookbook and started experimenting. I just figured it would save money, and help me pass the time, but I found I actually enjoyed it. Trust me ... no-one was more surprised than I was." Bonnie paused, watching with fascinated horror as Joss spooned a gelid mound of pink pasta into her mouth. "Does that taste as bad as it looks?"
"Hmmm." The younger woman chewed slowly, an ambivalent expression on her face. Then she shuddered. "Worse."
"Here." Bonnie pushed her salad across the table. "I'll trade you what's left for a taste of your muffin."
There was a beat of silence, during which Bonnie felt fiery embarrassment consume her. If spontaneous human combustion is possible, I'm about to prove it.
"Best offer I've had all day." Joss smiled, ignoring – or simply overlooking – the older brunette's unintentional double entendre, and broke the muffin in half. "But I think you deserve more than a taste."
"Thanks." Bonnie took the offered sweetbread and nibbled at a piece. Definitely time to change the topic. "So, did you do anything fun while you were in Atlanta?"
"I spent the day at the Wild World of Crazy-Cola." Joss grinned. "Checking out all the memorabilia and mainlining sugar and caffeine. Then I spent the night dancing off the rush at a women's club."
Bonnie raised her eyebrows. "A club, huh? Don't you have to be twenty-one to get into those, little Miss Nineteen?" She asked lightly.
"Uh ..." Joss put on a grossly exaggerated look of innocence. "Would ya believe it was an all-ages venue?"
Bonnie merely looked at the Montanan, her eyebrows staying in their elevated position.
"Okay, I admit it. I have a fake ID." Joss grinned and leaned forward, putting a finger to her lips. "Shhhh. Don't tell Kim."
The former cheerleader snorted.
"Not much chance of that. I'm not exactly on Kim's speed-dial, you know?"
"Well, you're on mine." Joss pulled her bright red cell phone from her jeans and waggled it in the air. "Don't want to be without a direct hotline t' the best meal in town."
"It's nice to know I'm appreciated." Bonnie remarked dryly, taking a sip of her iced tea. "Is that why we always seem to be meeting over food?"
"Ouch!" The Montanan mimed being stabbed in the heart, then held up one hand in a strange salute. "I swear I value ya f'more than your amazing culinary skills. Pixie Scout's Honor!"
"You were a Pixie Scout?"
"Well, no." Joss lowered her hand and shrugged, giving Bonnie a wicked little grin. "But I've dated girls who used to be. That has ta count for somethin', right?"
"I don't think it's quite the same thing." Bonnie threw her paper napkin at the younger woman, who cowered in mock-terror from the not-so-deadly missile. "So why Atlanta?"
"Why Atlanta what?"
"To go clubbing? You could do that here in town, right?" Bonnie pointed out. "Would have saved a lot of money on gas. Or did you really go for the Wild World of Tooth Decay?"
"Well, that was a major attraction." The Montanan grinned, then shrugged. "But no, the main reason I went there was that ... well, when all yer looking for is some fun ... it can helpful to be able to say 'I'm just in town for the weekend', y'know?"
"Oh ..." Bonnie said tonelessly, her good humor evaporating. Logically, she knew it was unfair for her to feel betrayed: Joss didn't even know she was gay, and certainly hadn't made any promises to her. But it still hurts. "And all you were looking for was ... 'some fun'?"
"That was the plan. Kinda ironic, really."
"Ironic?" It was a mistake to ask. Bonnie knew that even as her lips formed the words. But she couldn't help herself.
"Yeah." Joss smiled again, but for once it wasn't sparkling and playful; it was soft and warm and perhaps a little wistful. It was the most horrifying expression Bonnie had ever seen. "'cause I kinda met someone."
Author's Note: Dun dun DUN! The path of true love never did run smooth, and it looks like Bonnie's just hit a major bump in the road.
I'll be working on the next chapter of "Most Wanted" this weekend.