Page 113 of Backhanded Compliments

Luca is powerless to say no. “It’s really nothing. I feel anxious in new places, that’s all. It’ll go away.” It’s already ebbing away as Juliette holds her hands.

“Will walking around help? We can go to the store and get food.” Juliette tilts her head, and Luca nods.

“It would, actually, let’s go.”

The city is warm and sticky, but the fresh air and Juliette’s voice sweep the rest of her unreasonable anxiety away. Now, she only feels the giddy nervous energy that comes with holding a secret close to the chest.

She manages to keep herself together as they gather groceries, get a quick lunch, buy bottles of wine, and head back to the apartment. They lapse into easy conversation on the subway, each sway of the car tipping them back and forth, almost into each other and then farther away like they’re two rogue stars spinning off balance but still locked together by unseen gravity.

By the time they return, the apartment is bathed in beautiful golden sunrays. It’s hot in a pleasant, summer nostalgia-type of way. It sinks into Luca’s skin, calms the fizzy feeling in her stomach, and makes the chilled wine taste even sweeter.

In the tiny kitchen, she’s almost overwhelmed by the woody and earthy scent of Juliette’s perfume mixed with the citrus curl cream she uses and the fresh lavender on the windowsill. It’s distinct and heady and makes her head swim.

Luca doesn’t resist flicking on the old radio. She holds out her hand to Juliette.

“Really?” Juliette asks, aglow in the linen-softened sunlight.

“Dance with me,” Luca says, completely serious.

Juliette laughs, taking her hand. Her eyes gleam like the wine-dark sea and she beams like she’s swallowed the sun. Together they sway in circles, wrapped in each other’s arms and trading kisses. Perhaps it’s only fitting that now they dance together, after so long dancing around each other. They’ve found a groove and a harmony that weaves effortlessly. Luca knows they’re objectively terrible dancers, but that isn’t the point. They may bump together, uncoordinated, but there’s never anger, only sweet joy.

Juliette tugs Luca into the living room and pushes her onto the couch. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

Luca holds up her hands as Juliette vanishes into the bedroom. Luca doesn’t know what to expect, and her heart thunders in her chest. She grabs her glass of wine from the table and takes a swig, the ice clinking unpleasantly against her teeth. She shudders and puts it down.

When Juliette returns, she is braless in a gray tank top and shorts slung low on her hips. “Hi,” she says, standing in the doorway.

“Hey, yourself,” Luca says, leaning her elbows onto her knees.

“I want you,” Juliette says.

Luca’s breath hitches, fervent heat growing in her stomach. “Come here, then.”

Juliette comes closer and kneels in front of Luca. “If you ever want to stop—”

“I’ll say Margaret Court, don’t worry,” Luca says with a laugh. Juliette bursts out laughing too, lowering her head to Luca’s knee.

“Glad you remembered that,” Juliette says wryly.

“How could I forget?”

Juliette’s laughter fades as she takes Luca’s arm. “May I?” she asks, fingers brushing the wrap keeping her soulmark obscured.

Luca nods, the laughter catching in her throat. Juliette pulls the wrist strap free and sets it on the coffee table behind her. She liftsLuca’s wrist and presses a kiss to her palm, to the tips of her fingers, to the wristbones that jut beneath her skin, and finally to her own name.

“This is the first time I’ve seen it,” Juliette says softly, hovering her hand over Luca’s forearm and aligning their marks in the air.

Luca shivers despite the heat, and she swears it’s like the first time again, at the net when their palms connected. Radiant heat, incandescent, shimmers through her veins, and from the look on Juliette’s face, she’s experiencing the same vivid sensation.

It isn’t an emotion or feeling, but instead like every particle, every molecule, every atom has stilled. It is undeniably… peace.

Luca curls her fingers around Juliette’s forearm to connect their marks together, skin-to-skin, ink-to-ink for the first time.

“Wow,” Luca breathes, and Juliette looks up at her with big, round eyes.

“This is incredible,” Juliette murmurs. Then, slowly, she loosens her fingers and Luca reluctantly lets go, their skin’s connection breaking.

“I guess I know what to do if I ever have another panic attack,” Luca says as her fluttering nerves return slowly, more from excitement than actual anxiety.

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