Page 89 of The Matchmaker's Choice: A Lesbian Romance
because we did this all throughout the night. Maybe, but I
know that’s not it. It feels like we’ve been doing this forever.
Like she’s an old lover and that hand represents comfort and
memories, safety, security, happiness, warmth, all those good
things. There’s surprising strength in her small hand. I feel like
if I had to, I could lean on it.
She tugs me along in the direction of the car and I feel
both extremely sad and like I’m floating on the most intense
high. Like a really good workout. That nice endorphin high
where your whole body just feels refreshed and light.
We slide into our seats at the same time. She pauses
before she hits the start button. I think it’s weird that her car
doesn’t use an actual key. I guess maybe I’m slightly old-
fashioned. My car is a late nineties model. Those imports are
still extremely reliable. They will always start. They will
always run. I have yet to be stranded, so to me, that’s worth
more than any new, upgraded technology.
“Do you want to get a drink?” she asks me.
I was going to ask her. But she got there first. “Uh,
yeah. Sure. But not somewhere fancy. Somewhere where they
have darts or pool or something. So we have something to
look at.”
Steph’s lips twitch. “You don’t play pool or darts?”
“One time I tried darts. I didn’t get a single dart on the
board. The wall was full of holes all around it already, so I
didn’t feel so bad. I’ve tried pool a couple times, but I
seriously suck.”
“We could still play.”
“Do you play?”
“Not well.”
