ELEVEN

"...and if my wishes came true

it would've been you..."

———

February 23rd, 2018

Coffee...

Coffee...

...Latté?

Macchiato?

Tea??

Taylor fretted as she sat in the back of an SUV outside of a Starbucks, her thumbs hovering over the smartphone screen in her hands. Her security guard was currently standing next to the car in a below-zero wind, waiting for her to text him what she wanted so he could run in and get it. They were already running late to the meeting in SoHo —thanks to the never-ending power struggle between her cats— and this really was the stupidest thing for her to be indecisive about.

Taylor sighed, then forced her fingers to fly across the keyboard and dropped the phone face down after hitting Send. Ted didn't even look at his phone, but he immediately waltzed toward the entrance to the chain coffee shop, following behind a young blonde screaming into her own device.

Taylor realized her heart was pounding.

But it felt good. It was exciting; dizzying and reckless. Anticipating so much so that all of her thoughts felt like balloon strings slipping from her fingers, none of which she could grab at fast enough to comprehend. For the past two days, her mind was buzzing with such pleasant vacancy, she'd begun to wonder how she used to worry as much as she did.

She kissed Dorothea.

She kissed Dorothea Jane Madison.

If Taylor had known that taking that sort of risk would launch her up into the clouds for days after, vibrate her entire being in blissful aftershocks, and paste a stupid smile across her face in the most inappropriate of moments—

She would have taken all of them.

A few minutes later, Ted reappeared and opened the backseat door, then handed her a tray with two cups. A black coffee for her, and a chai tea for the girl whose lips tasted like every single spice in the world combined to create a wildly hypnotizing blend. Another risk. But she distinctly remembered the girl ordering one when they went to brunch, so it was a cautious risk, compared to the one she'd taken two nights ago with their heads bent on the backseat floor.

As soon as they arrived, Taylor rushed out of the car and into the building. She was only a few minutes late, so hopefully Tree would spare giving her shit until after the meeting ended.  By then she wouldn't care, anyway. She'd be far too distracted by the girl who was currently standing at the front of the room in a kitten-soft, gray sweater, black jeans ripped at the knees and heels, presenting a series of edited photos.

Dorothea only glanced at her, but continued speaking without pause. Good. That was exactly what Taylor wanted. While the brunette's voice continued smoothly, she slipped quietly down the aisle to the open seat at the far end of the table. Then, as nonchalantly as possible, she crossed one leg over the other, folded her hands, and rested her eyes on Dorothea.

"...So I'm not sure how I feel about the lighting in this one? I don't know what you guys think?" The brunette bit her lip as she glanced at the screen, then back to the group at the table. Taylor smiled when their eyes briefly met in a flicker, and she immediately noticed the girl's expression lighten—ever-so-slightly— with relief. Even though Dorothea spoke with confidence, the hint of uncertainty in her tone somehow only solidified Taylor's certainty that the girl really knew her shit.

And suddenly she felt both boiling hot and suffocated by attraction in that windowless room.

Dear God.

Taylor didn't absorb a single word of the others in the room as they discussed the photos. Not even Dorothea's. Once again, her thoughts were like the tornado of snowflakes that night after the shoot, flying every-which-way with no particular surface to stick on. She spent the time stealing glances at each of the brunette's features, adding to the arrangement of pieces in her mind in the hopes that she could reference this perfect image no matter where she was looking.

When Dorothea returned to the images, Taylor was suddenly aware of how ghostly the girl's complexion was. Perhaps it was the light from the screen—but no. Her features were much more peachy in the portrait inside her mind. The first thing she'd noticed that night behind Bar None was Dorothea's naturally sun-kissed skin, which seemed to radiate every shade of forgotten summers. But now she was whiter than fresh snow.

"So, this is pretty much what I have so far. I—" Dorothea stopped, the syllable dropping like a dumbbell into the quiet space. She then swallowed, and Taylor frowned as the girl's eyes darted frantically around the space.

"I'm sorry," she continued, her voice shallow, "would it be okay if we paused for a few minutes?"

"Absolutely," Tree agreed. "This has been great, Thea. What do you say we break and reconvene in twenty minutes to go over launch dates? Sound good?"

Taylor watched as Dorothea hummed and nodded quickly with a tight smile, then exited the room in a flash. Just like that, she was gone. Taylor frowned again as the others were standing up, unfazed, taking sips of water and looking at their phones. She then glanced at the two white coffee cups in front of her; identical to the shade of Dorothea's face seconds before.

She looked sick.

"Ah, so this is why you were a few minutes late?" Tree suddenly appeared at her side, lowering herself into the empty seat and nodding at the drinks. "One for me, too? You shouldn't have."

"Oh—ah, actually—"

"I'm kidding." Tree laughed. Taylor could feel the woman studying her flustered expression. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

She pressed her lips together, uncertain. "Sort of a bad excuse for being late."

"I'll let it slide."

"How generous of you."

Tree smiled. Taylor knew she was waiting for her to continue the conversation—something usually quite easy and natural for her—but she remained quiet. There didn't seem to be any room for words in her mind as she fretted over the status of the girl who liked peanut butter toast.

"So," Tree breathed, "I've been thinking about some tour things and wanted to get your opinion on an idea I had."

Taylor smiled curiously. "And you're not usually one to lead into sharing your thoughts on anything."

"We currently have the one photographer—Seth—for the shows," her publicist explained, "should I offer Dorothea the other position?"

Taylor stared at the other woman, stunned. "Ah—yeah!" She agreed, "Yeah, I mean—Sure, that'd be—"

"Great. As long as that's okay with you?" Tree prodded.

She nodded, then furrowed her eyebrows. "I've never seen you warm up to anyone I've liked this fast—or at all."

Tree shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips as they both turned to see Dorothea returning to the room. "They never impressed me."

Taylor smiled, her eyes dropping to the table. She sensed the girl eyeing her from across the room, which only made her heart accelerate like pressing the gas pedal to a vehicle floor.

Tree stood and leaned towards her, her voice lowered, "I'll let you tell her about the opportunity. But first you should probably give her that tea."

———

The tiny grain of rice/bean was officially the living form of Hell in Dorothea's uterus.

For the first hour of the meeting, everything had been more or less fine (having grown accustomed to an underlying sense of nausea, she'd become an expert at ignoring it). Even when Taylor walked in and her stomach back-flipped, the feeling quickly settled into her fluttering, dizzy heart.

But when she was wrapping up showing her progress with editing the merch photos, the itty-bitty piece of life in her abdomen declared war. She always tried to be a firm peacekeeper in their dynamic, but the baby decided that mercy wasn't an option.

Dorothea had felt a thin veil of sweat break out over her skin, and the fluorescent lights in the tile ceiling suddenly looked atrocious. With everyone's eyes on her, she felt as though she was up to her neck in seawater, and that she'd drown if she took another breath.

Or vomit.

When she returned from her date with the restroom, everyone was still dispersed and chatting. She was relieved the nauseous feeling had disappeared but now she felt hollow. Having hardly been able to keep anything down for almost two months was wearing on her. Both physically and emotionally. But luckily, when she caught Taylor's eyes looking towards her own from across the space, the feeling could be pushed aside for a little longer.

"Hey," Taylor greeted as she sat down in the empty seat to her right. But a small frown formed on her lips. "Were you okay, just now?"

"Yeah. Yeah," Dorothea replied, then laughed, not quite meeting the singer's eyes. "Sometimes I just get these things with my stomach—I don't really know what causes it."

"Were you sick?" The frown stayed on the blonde's features, her eyes softening. She put a hand on her arm. "Thea, this really isn't that big of a deal. We can schedule another meeting to go over whatever else is left from this one, if we have to—"

"No! No, that's okay," she insisted, feeling her skin grow hot. Most likely from the fact that she was lying directly to the pop star's face. But this wasn't the time to tell her about the rice-bean—she darted her eyes around the room at the dozen others. Not at all.

"Okay." Taylor gave a gentle smile, though Dorothea knew she sensed there was more that hadn't been revealed. A few quiet moments passed between them, then Dorothea's eyes travelled to the singer reaching for one of the Starbucks cups and sliding it towards her.

"Chai tea?" Taylor offered.

"Oh!" Dorothea's eyes lit up. And maybe it was just that she was so empty and sick, but for whatever stupid hormonal reason, the dumbest prick of tears stung behind her eyes. "Thank you! You really didn't have to—"

"I didn't. But I wanted to." The blonde smirked, lifting her own cup to her lips.

Dorothea sipped her drink, then suddenly shook her head. "I feel like I owe you so much. Here you are buying me a drink and getting me my first photography job and taking me to brunch—"

"Thea—"

"and giving me hundreds of dollars that I really should have put in a better place than next to my Britney Spears ...Baby One More Time CD in my nightstand drawer!—"

Taylor burst out laughing, causing a few heads to spin in their direction. "Dorothea. Please, don't worry about it—"

"I want to do something for you,"

"You already have."

Dorothea eyed the blonde carefully, then lifted an eyebrow at her amused expression. She suddenly knew exactly what Taylor was talking about. But it was much more fun to pretend she didn't. "I have?"

Taylor tilted her head, smiling behind the paper coffee cup as she took another sip. "Well, maybe not. Remind me again, what was it that you did for me?"

Dorothea's face flashed pink with heat. She glanced sideways at the group chatting loudly on the other side of the room. "I'm pretty sure I left it in the backseat with you," she hinted, her voice barely audible.

Taylor nodded slowly, teasingly. "Did you leave anything else?" She asked.

Dorothea furrowed her brow. "I suppose that's possible."

"And it's possible I may have accidentally taken that thing into my apartment," Taylor mentioned. For a moment, she traced her finger against the wood grain of the table, then like hot lightning in the wildest summer storm, her blue eyes zapped towards Dorothea.

"You want to do me a favor?" She asked. "Come over tonight and help me find it."