A number of months ago my parents got a letter in the mail that said our family was selected to host a young woman, only a month or so older than myself, from the Parisian countryside. Enclosed in the envelope were her school picture and much of her basic information; name, age, birthday, allergies (food or otherwise), hobbies, etc.
Looking at her picture I saw her light golden-brown hair with hints of red reach halfway down her upper arm, with a gentle wave that isn't quite prominent enough to qualify as a legit wave but was still noticeable. Two soft green eyes compliment her hair color quite well. She has on a three-quarter sleeve top with black and white stripes across her body. Just below those she's wearing distressed denim shorts that stop a quarter of the way down her thighs, her pockets reaching half any inch longer. Her quiet smile says that she has a humble personality and I see potential for a great friendship.
********
In preparation for her arrival, we clean out the spare guest room that has become the home office/tv/computer/multipurpose room over the years. We set up a bed frame and mattress for an extra-large twin, add a light grey dresser, ...
"Hey baby girl," mom greets me from the couch. "How'd work go?" "Food Prep and walking around with trays of hors d'oeuvre is such a glamorous lifestyle,". "Aren't you and dad going out to dinner with some friends later?" I ask. "Yeah, we're going to that old Italian place about half an hour away with the Hammunds. Your dad actually got in a few minutes before you did. He's upstairs showering and getting so we can leave in about twenty or so minutes,". With everything quiet I actually hear the shower turn off up there then give mom a small hug from behind the sofa and tell her, "Well, I read that tonight's sunset is going to be epic so I'm going to change out of my catering uniform and put on some real clothes and grab my camera,". "Hey," she called as I set my foot on the first step, so I answer, "Yeah, what's up?" Alix is outback with one of her books, I think. I'm going to leave you guys some money for pizza or Chinese, whatever you two choose, on the fridge since I'm sure you've had enough fancy foods to last you for a while," she laughed. "Thanks Mom," I say before jogging up the stairs.
Tying my hair back in a loose ponytail and grabbing my camera off my bed, I hustle back down in time to see my parents off. From there I skipped into the kitchen, pull up some dance music on my phone, then pull the blender out from under the island.
********
"Heeeey girly girl. We have the house to ourselves, we have beautiful weather, and I just made us some amazing watermelon slushy mocktails, if I do say so myself," I announce to Alix as I close the back French doors with my foot, make my way across the deck to her, and place our drinks on the two cork coasters she set on the table.
She may have only been with us for less than two months, but it didn't take long at all for Alix and me to become close friends, basically sisters. We sip down our drinks as we gossip and laugh at all the ridiculous claims and things people have been up to lately. At one point, she sets down her mocktail and, first marking her page, set her closed book beside it. Wordlessly, I set down my own glass, then take hold of the camera hanging around my neck, and capture a shot of her resting her arm on the back of the outdoor sofa, bending it back to set the tip of a impeccably manicured finger on her lip as she looks off in the distance, a soft breeze blowing her hair just right.
A take a few more shots then look down at my screen and whisper, "Wow," breaking her aimless stare. "What is it?" she asks, putting out a hand to ask to ask to see my camera. I raise the strap up and over my head before handing it to her. Alix skims through the images I've taken over the last few days; many of us, some of landscape and touristy spots, and several she hadn't realized I had taken of her, then whispers, "Whoa," under her breath. "Diana these are great! When did you get some of these? I never even noticed you taking these!" I chuckle a bit at the compliments and admitted, "You're not a hard subject to work with. Somehow you always find the right angles in the light for your face, your posture is almost always spot on, and there's a fun self-confidence that emanates from you anytime you let yourself go and stop caring about everybody else and just have fun!" Alexi giggles shyly looking back down at the photos. I'm a little reluctant to ask, then the question spills out, "Has no one ever told you just how beautiful you are?" She says, "Well, I mean, mes parents mais je..." then her voice trails off as she looks down again.
Sending me a coy smile, displaying her perfect white teeth. I looked into her sparkling green eyes and saw there a playful shimmer then a glint of longing.
'Did I see that wrong?' I wonder. I know our drinks are clones of adult drinks, but I am sure I put no alcohol in them. Then I get out of my own head and notice her hand on my leg. I know she's had it there before but something about the energy around us feels a bit different. Her hand moves in, lightly touching my skin and rubbing toward my inner thigh. Her green eyes capture my hazel pupils, and something in me won't dare look away. We stare at each other for a few seconds.
To my surprise, Alexi leans over and places a small kiss on my lips. As she pulls away, she bites her lip, and she blushes. Accepting her offer, I find myself tilting myself over to her, so our lips can meet again. Very slowly, we separate our lips before sharing a third, longer kiss. A fourth kiss is endured, and we feel one another smile as we turn our heads just enough to keep our noses from preventing anymore excess space get between us. Alix rests her hand on my cheek as mine does on hers, as we open our mouths a bit wider to scoop each other in.
I ask her then, "Are there butterflies in your stomach, too?" and she answers, "Only if butterflies cause a débandade," before she smothers my lips again. Now, I know my French may not be perfect, but I am pretty confident that means 'stampede'. I place my tongue on her lips and her own tongue pulls it in further. For over a minute, our tongues dance a messy routine amongst our open mouths, one that only tongues know. I gently take her drink from her, setting it aside on the table and suggest that we sit on the outdoor sofa just a few feet away.
As we do so, I pull her hair back and softly nibble her ear. I hear her gasp and know that even though I don't know exactly what I'm doing, having never done anything like this with another girl, I'm doing it right.
