Page 67 of Female Fantasy
No one answers.
I try one more time, a bit louder.
But I’m greeted by silence. No shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the door.
Oh well. I guess coming here was a long shot anyway.
Sighing, I turn around and prepare to tell Nico that plan B is a bust.
And then the door swings open.
A middle-aged femme with dark skin and long thick graying braids stares at me. Glasses sit on the bridge of their nose, and a fraying cardigan hangs loose past their wrists. A tiny orange cat nuzzles their ankles, scowling at me.
“Angel?” I blurt out.
They cross their arms in front of their body, pulling their sleeves over their fingertips. “Do I know you?”
“It’s Joonie.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
They blink at me, suspicious. As if I’m a ghost.
“You know. Um. StepOnMeRyke432.”
“StepOnMeRyke432 has never shown interest in meeting up with me before,” they say slowly. “How do I know it’s really you and not some catfish?”
I wince slightly at their disbelief. Not that it’s their fault, really. The Salty Girls have organized Skype sessions in the past, but I’ve always used some flimsy excuse to bail, afraidto show them my face. To make all of this real and accidentally ruin a good thing. I wanted to preserve the fantasy of friendship.
But now I’m standing here, unannounced, in Angel’s doorway.
It doesn’t get much more real than that.
“Let’s see,” I reply. “I know that you’re a Pisces. Your mother’s name was Shanti, but you called her Titi. And this little devil right here”—I nudge at the feline at my feet—“is Purrtha Mason.”
There’s a glint of mischief in Angel’s eyes. But they refuse to budge. “All of that information is readily available online,” they argue.
So I go in for the kill.
“I know that your favorite chapter in the ATOSAS series is in book two, when Ryke and Merriah are finally reunited and he teaches her tail play. I know you especially like it when he uses the tips of his fin to—”
“That’s enough,” they say, cutting me off, their wide grin finally reaching their eyes. “Joonie? Is that really you, girl?”
They cross the threshold and pull me into a huge bear hug. After a moment, my body melts into their softness and I exhale, all the anxiety of meeting my longtime friend in person dissipating. In truth, it feels like I’ve known them my whole life. The cotton of their T-shirt is butter soft beneath my fingertips. I inhale their scent, a lemon-infused, fresh-out-of-the-laundry smell. Having them in my arms feels like going through the cardboard boxes hidden away in my parents’ atticand finding an old favorite.
Familiar.
Right.
“Holy shit!” they squeal. “Come in, come in! God, I have to tell the gang. We were worried you were dead in a ditch or some shit. You haven’t responded to our messages for almost forty-eight hours. We thought you’d eloped with the real-life Ryke!”
“Actually,” Nico says from behind me, reminding me that he’s here, “any chance you could lend us cab fare? It’s a long story, but we come to you on bended knee with empty pockets.”
“I look forward to hearing that story, and I doubt I’ll have a problem with the bended knee portion.” Angel’s eyes rake over Nico’s body, lingering on his toned torso and taut behind before landing on his face. “And who might you be, handsome?”
Before Nico can answer, Angel sniffs me and makes a face. “Oh, honey. You need a shower more than MMCs need to stop ripping their girls’ panties off—I mean, honestly, do they think lingerie grows on trees? Let me take care of this taxi. Why don’t you two get yourselves set up in the guest room? Freshen up, settle in, take your time. You’re staying here tonight. Then you can tell me everything over dinner. Any dietary restrictions? Please don’t say nuts.”
“You’renuts.” I laugh, feeling truly safe for the first time since leaving home. “That would be great. Thanks, Angel.”
Nico nods. “You’re a lifesaver. Can we help in any way?”
