Page 49 of Love in Focus

Still completely naked, Celeste rolls over so she’s propped up on her elbows. Her long legs in the air behind her, she stares at me with those gorgeously dark eyes of hers.

A puzzled expression scrunches up her face before smoothing out into acceptance.

“Gem,” she says. “Let me at least lend you a change of clothes so you don’t have to wear what you wore yesterday. Like what you did for me last time.”

Borrowing a change of clothes from Celeste would mean that I’d have to smell like her again. I’m about to tell her no thanks, when her face lights up with an idea.

“Oh, I still have that shirt you let me borrow last time,” she says. “I washed it for you and everything. Let me go get it.”

She gets up from the bed, and I get a full, unavoidable view of her bare chest.How the heck did I sleep with those breasts pressed up against me for the entire night?

I want to ask her if she can put some clothes on, but also, if I’m being honest with myself, I kind of don’t.

She fishes out my shirt from the closet and hands it to me. I sniff it warily and breathe a small sigh of relief when it smells like generic, citrusy laundry detergent.

I gladly put it on.

I’m less lucky on the underwear front, because the bikini briefs I wore yesterday are a complete mess. I don’t dare wear them again, unwashed. I fold them up and stash them in my purse.

Well, at least my pants are still wearable. Going commando isn’t exactly how I thought I’d start off the New Year, but I don’t have a choice.

I’m slipping on my pants when Celeste says, “Let me drop you off at your friends’ place.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I was thinking of taking public transportation.”

She shakes her head. “The train schedule is weird today because of the holiday. Here, if you don’t want me to drive, I can get a car for you,” she says, holding up her phone. “If I request it now, your driver will arrive in around eight minutes. Is that enough time for you?”

“More than enough. Thanks.”

While we wait, Celeste finally goes to her closet and pulls on a long, black pajama T-shirt. She folds her arms across her chest, and we wordlessly stare at each other until my ride arrives.

My head still spinning from everything that happened in the last twelve hours, I don’t let myself fully relax until I’m in the car, on the way back home.

When she woke up on New Year’s Day to find Gemma standing in her bedroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around herself, Celeste almost broke her own rules.

The sight was too intimately familiar, like the Gemma from eight years ago had somehow time traveled to the present day. Back when they used to live together in their crappy LA apartment, the bathroom mirror would always fog up, so both she and Gemma would have to wrap themselves up in their towels and change in the bedroom, instead. Even though it was an inconvenience brought on by the misfortune of being broke college students, this and other quiet, mundane moments with Gemma were some of Celeste’s fondest memories.

Fortunately, the current Gemma had refused Celeste’soffer to cook breakfast, pulling her back to the cold reality of the present.If she hadn’t, well…

Back in her bed, Celeste stops herself from thinking about might haves and would haves. Instead, she forces herself to, not for the first time, think aboutwhat isandwhat isn’t.

She and Gemma had fun at the party last night. That is a fact. Then they came back to her place and had sex. Also a fact.

Despite all this, the morning after, Gemma couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Celeste had tried her best to be calm and relaxed, hoping that would help them get everything sorted out this morning. But maybe it’d been for the best that they didn’t. After all, Celeste doesn’t do relationships. Not anymore. She can’t completely forget that because of one tender moment of nostalgia.

Although they’re exes, Celeste still cares about Gemma. She doesn’t want to hurt her again.

Back when they seriously dated in college, Celeste believed that the happily-ever-afters she grew up reading about were real. When she and Gemma justhappenedto become roommates at the beginning of junior year, and then they justhappenedto become so much more than that, Celeste thought that she was finally getting a love story of her own.

But then, of course,reallife had taken everything away from her. Just like that.

Her mother had believed in love stories, too. In fact, she’s the reason why Celeste had fallen in love with romanticK-dramas and other love stories to begin with. But after witnessing what her mother went through all those years agoandexperiencing her own heartbreak with Gemma, Celeste had realized another probable fact. As entertaining as they are, love stories simply aren’t real. Or at least, for some unknown reason, they aren’t real for people like her and her mother. And there’s no use in believing otherwise.

Celeste only has one more set of interviews with Gemma. After that, they’ll return to their normal, separate lives in LA and SF, respectively. And she’ll finally be able to move on from the past.

Celeste’s alarm goes off, ripping her away from her thoughts. She reaches her arm out to turn off the incessant beeping and gets a whiff of Gemma’s scent, her eyes fluttering closed at the pleasant aroma. Before she can stop herself, she’s scooped up the blanket and gathered it up in her hands, sniffing it like some drug addict. Somehow, Gemma smells even better than she remembers.

Celeste thinks back to a study she discovered online that found that lesbian women and straight men react similarly to women’s pheromones in a way that straight women do not. At a time when everyone around her was denying her existence—or said “there was something wrong” with her—studies like this had made her feel a bit better.

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