Page 30 of Windlass

“A comic, but I can’t . . .” she trailed off, frowning more intently at her sketch. “I’m having trouble with some anatomy work.”

“Can I see?”

Angie pushed the sketchbook toward her. A series of nudes filled the page. “They look good to me.”

“That’s because you like tits. It’s the posture.” She turned her computer screen, and Stevie blinked as she took in the reference photos. Several nude women stood, crouched, and lounged.

“What am I looking at, besides tits?”

“Well, I can’t find the exact pose I want, so I’ve been trying to combine some of these and it isn’t working. The proportions are all wrong.”

They looked fine to Stevie, but she didn’t argue. No doubt Angie knew what she was talking about.

“I need a model,” Angie muttered, mostly to herself.

“Use me,” Stevie said around a bite of pasta. She could talk to Angie when Angie was distracted. Things felt almost normal, then. “You have before.”

Angie looked up. Normality disintegrated. Those hazel eyes considered her from beneath heavy lashes. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Because I need you naked.”

Stevie shut her eyes for what she hoped passed for a blink. There was a sentence that would haunt her:I need you naked.

“Buy a girl dinner first.” She tried to pass off the effect the words had had on her with a joke.

“I made you pasta.”

“Touché.” Stevie took another bite just for something to do with her mouth. She tasted nothing but need. “I mean, you could, I guess.”

What?Had she said that aloud? Was sheinsane?

“Really?” Angie tapped her lips with her pen. “That wouldn’t make you uncomfortable?”

While the question itself was considerate, the tone in which it had been asked was all challenge.

“Isn’t that a thing? Drawing nude models or whatever?”

“Yeah, but—” Angie paused. “I mean I guess it wouldn’t be weird if it wasyou. Pretty sure you’ve seen my tits. Fair exchange.”

Angie needed to stop saying tits. Yes, Stevie had seen Angie topless. Angie had zero shame. This had been a point of particularly acute agony ever since they’d moved in together.Somepeople shut doors when they changed.Somepeople didn’t smoke weed in the yard and decide they wanted to feel moonlight on their skin, leaving their best friend holding the blunt while they basked topless on a blanket beneath the stars.

But Angie wanted her, too. Maybe it was time—past time—Angie felt the same way.

Blushing, she leaned back in her chair with what she hoped passed for nonchalance. “Friends help friends, right?”

“Right.”

They looked at each other. Stevie saw the hesitation flit across Angie’s face. Whatever her reasons for denying her feelings, they were still in place, even if her boundaries had weakened. If Stevie let the heat of the last few days fade, would Angie pretend they had never happened? Could Stevie live with herself if she didn’t at least try to push this further?

“Where do you want me?”

Angie’s lips parted, then shut. “Really?”

“You have me for an hour and a half, and then it’s bedtime.”

“You’re such a pumpkin.” Angie’s smile contained an affection that physically hurt.

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