Page 14 of Don't Tell Me Who To Love

“Kind of. You?”

“Just a week.”

Gabi sipped her drink. “I’m Gabi.”

“Lynn.”

Gabi held up her glass, and Lynn clinked it with hers.

“Have you been to Spain before?” Gabi asked.

“No, you?”

“First time.” Gabi raised her eyebrows and sipped her drink.

Lynn smiled as she eyed Gabi up and down. “Nice.”

The beer headed down the wrong way, making Gabi cough. “Seems nice enough,” she said and looked around the bar, heat burning her cheeks. She was used to being chatted up while on the other side of the bar. It was different being on this side, and she felt more vulnerable without her job to hide behind.

Lynn brushed Gabi’s arm with her fingertip and held Gabi’s gaze.

Gabi finished her beer and called the bartender over. “Can I get you another drink?”

Lynn shook her head. “Want to try a different bar?”

Gabi couldn’t see anything wrong with this one. Admittedly, it wasn’t a gay bar, but the atmosphere was easy going, and it was close to the square where the flamenco dancers were. What the hell? It would be nice to have some company. “Okay.”

“Follow me,” Lynn said.

“Where are you staying?” Gabi asked as they walked.

“A bed and breakfast on Jorge Carmen.” She shook her head, tousling her hair, and ran her fingers through it then settled it behind her ears. “There’s three of us. We work together.”

“Where are they, your friends?”

“I left them in bed together.” Lynn rolled her eyes.

Gabi laughed. “Nice, for them.”

“They decided to hit it off the night we arrived and haven’t gotten out of bed since. Going away with friends sucks.”

“Unless it’s you that’s getting laid,” Gabi said.

“True.” Lynn made her way through a crowd of women and into a bar.

The voices were a higher pitch and the aroma sweeter. There were more women inside. “Is this a gay bar?”

“I think it’s gay friendly to cater for us immoral tourists. You know there aren’t any Spanish lesbians, don’t you?”

“What?” Gabi frowned then realised Lynn was joking. Gabi shook her head. Why was it so difficult for some people to let others live? She didn’t shout about being a lesbian, but she didn’t hide the fact either. Yes, there were a few people who looked down their noses or had something derogatory to say about her short hair, but there would always be fuckwits in this world. “Sucks. You’d think it was 1905, not 1995.”

“It’s pathetic. What do you want to drink?” Lynn asked.

“Vodka Coke, please.” Gabi looked around. She picked out the languages she recognised, German, French, and Portuguese, and something that sounded Scandinavian or Dutch.

Lynn handed Gabi her a drink and lifted her glass. “Happy holiday.”

Gabi made her way outside and away from the crowd. “So, what do you do when you’re not here?” she asked.

---