Page 29 of Beneath the Desert Bloom
They talked. About nothing. About everything. Nora asked about Lauren’s latest art show, a series of mixed-media sculptures involving broken mirrors and oyster shells.
“It’s not as pretentious as it sounds,” Lauren promised.
“No, it’s exactly as pretentious as it sounds,” Nora said, grinning.
After dinner, they wandered down to The Scarlet Coyote, a bar with faded red wallpaper, too many mirrors, and a jukebox that only played songs older than either of them. Miso was tucked into a makeshift carrier Lauren had slung over her shoulder.
They drank something smoky and overpriced while Lauren flirted with a bearded man who claimed to play lap steel in a cosmic country band.
“You’re thriving here,” Lauren said, flopping back into the booth when he wandered off. “You’ve got that haunted desert nymph vibe.”
Nora rolled her eyes. “Please. I look like a woman who has been sleeping badly and communing with wildlife.”
Lauren tilted her head. “Seriously, though. Something’s different. I don’t know what it is. But it’s not bad.”
Nora didn’t answer for a beat. She sipped her drink and stared at the mirror behind the bar, where her reflection looked like it belonged to someone else.
“It’s the humidity. Or heatstroke.”
They both laughed, and for a moment, it felt normal. Nora let herself lean into the banter, even if the truth of her ache still buzzed under her skin like an electrical wire with the insulation stripped off.
Lauren looked at her for a long moment, then raised her glass. “To finishing what you came here to do. And coming back to civilization when you’re done.”
Nora clinked her glass but didn’t answer.
Because finishing didn’t feel like the plan anymore.
Later, they drove home under a sky thick with stars. Miso curled up in the backseat. Lauren rolled down her window again, letting the wind tangle her hair.
“Maybe I can see it, Vale. There’s something about the air out here. It just feels… alive,” Lauren said, gazing out the window at the stars.
Back at the house, the night waited for them.
The wind had picked up again.
And somewhere, far past the reach of headlights and laughter, something moved through the brush, silent and watching.
CHAPTER 8
THE NIGHT HAD cooled off by the time they got back to the house. The moon was a sliver in the sky, letting the stars shine bright. Lauren kicked off her boots at the door, already tugging at her earrings and whining about her bra.
“God, I forgot how good it feels to take this thing off. Free the girls, baby.”
Nora snorted. “You say that every time you wear one.”
“Because it’s always true.”
Nora grabbed a couple beers from the fridge. The bottles hissed open with satisfying snaps, and the girls flopped onto the couch with the kind of exhausted relief only long days and mild dehydration could summon. Miso settled immediately onto Lauren’s lap like a spoiled prince, his cloud-white fur puffed into a perfect pom.
Nora tipped her bottle toward him. “He looks like a marshmallow who knows your darkest secrets.”
Lauren grinned and scratched under his chin. “He does. And he’s judging you.”
They clinked their bottles together. The house felt warmer now, full of the slow, soft buzz of cicadas through open windows, the sound of laughter, and the faint scent of desert sage still clinging to Nora’s clothes. She'd changed into cutoff shorts and a loose tank top over her swimsuit. Lauren, ever effortlessly cute, had swapped into a gauzy sundress and bare feet, her toenails painted some dreamy lilac that made Nora feel mildly feral.
Lauren leaned back. “So... you gonna tell me what’s up with you and Eli?”
Nora groaned and dropped her head onto the back of the couch. “God, why does everyone always ask that like it's the opening line to a horror movie?”
