"Inside I still feel like the 23-year old that wanted to be your fuck toy," she said, her eyes a little wild and a little lost.
We have a long often tumultuous history, Aurora and I. We've spent as much time being enemies as we have being friends and only in the last few years have we been able to stand to be in the presence of each other.
Six or seven years ago, we had a very strong attraction and Aurora first presented the idea to her boyfriend at the time that she wanted their relationship to be open and more specifically, that she had an interest in me. Admittedly at the time I wasn't sure how I felt about polyamory and the situation imploded spectacularly when (I learned much later on) her boyfriend gave his permission to her and then told me something entirely different. I felt betrayed and misled by Aurora, particularly because her boyfriend was a friend. He gave me the impression that she'd been dishonest and I was furious with her about it. She got the impression that I'd just played a game to see if I could get her to do it and she hated me too.
New Orleans is a small place and when you have the same circle of friends, it can feel even smaller. There was a palpable tension in the air after that and we couldn't stand to be around each other. We were all in a performance art group together; I stopped showing up when I knew she'd be there and eventually I quit altogether. When we were forced to be in the same room on some social occasion, the animosity was obvious and one or the other of us would find a reason to leave as soon as possible.
A few years ago while I was back visiting New Orleans, we ran into each other and agreed to have a talk. It was then that we discovered that we both had been misled by the same person and that we'd wasted years loathing each other because of it. Even after figuring it out, the truth was harder to hang on to than the years of mistrust were. There was still a sense of danger in talking to her and we kept a respectable distance while we decided if there was any ground solid enough for us to move forward on. I didn't always mention to her that I was coming to town on some of my previous trips to New Orleans and I only told her last-minute that I'd be there on that particular one, feeling that maybe it was time to really put the past behind us.
She messaged me on Facebook days before my trip and we added each other as friends, eventually trading phone numbers so we could text instead. She offered me a lift from the airport, but I declined, not sure I was ready to see her wanting to be back in New Orleans for at least a few days before I did. It wasn't until the day before I supposed to leave that we finally made plans to see one another and even then I wasn't sure entirely what to expect.
We agreed to meet for lunch at a Mona's on Frenchman street and I took something of a farewell walk through the French Quarter on my way to see her. It was hot outside, even with the overcast skies, and I could smell the rain looming somewhere in the distance. I hadn't seen her in almost two years when I spotted her through the window, standing close to the door. Her hair was shorter than when I'd seen her last and it had vibrant pink streaks, unlike the honey blonde it'd been when we met. Being face to face with her the familiar feeling of warning crept up on me but it was accompanied by fascination, which I hadn't let myself feel for her in years.
She was wearing a yellow shirt that hung long enough to nearly eclipse her tiny shorts and red cowboy boots; sometimes I forget she was born and raised in a swampy outpost of New Orleans and the way that she was dressed reminded me that she is in fact a truely southern woman.
Aurora is a curious mixture of brash and vulnerable; she rarely holds back when speaking to me, even if she makes herself blush with the things that come out of her mouth.
She often looks at me with equal parts want and contempt and I enjoy it. The look on her face when she saw me though the window seemed determined, though I was unsure what of just then.
We took a seat at a far table and quickly found the playful tone of the conversation that we'd shared in the past. There was a hint of trepidation behind it all, but also a feeling like things had changed, become unstuck and could (finally) move forward. We were deciding to trust each other as we sat there, even if it hadn't yet proven wise to do so. We started to flirt a bit and then she rolled her eyes at me as if she didn't yet believe that I meant it.
"This is going to be like all those other times when you get me turned on and then don't do anything, isn't it?" she said, and I laughed because we do have a long (unintentional) history of sexual tension without payoff.
I studied her face, trying to decide if she just wanted to know that I would fuck her or if she felt she was in danger of wanting to fuck me and not getting what she wanted. She didn't give me time to come toa conclusion.
"Want a lift to the airport?" she offered, changing the subject.
I accepted and we hugged goodbye when we left the restaurant. I had a feeling that she had something more she needed to say and that I would hear about it in the car. We agreed to meet at the friend's apartment that I was staying at because I needed to pack up and say goodbye to them; a few hours later she came and got me, earlier than I expected and before I really needed to leave.
She picked me up in her SUV and announced that we had a bit of time to kill, asking me where to go. I knew she already had a plan so I put the decision on her and we headed to the small shotgun apartment she lived in. There really wasn't that much extra time before my flight, but I agreed to it, wanting to see how things would play out.
We pulled up in front of her place and sat inside the car for a moment when she told me we didn't have time for games today and invited me inside. She was forward and also uncertain and I hadn't decided myself just then how far I was willing to let things go.
