Tina sat down with a sigh, clutching her glass as she faced Bette and tucked her legs underneath her. ”Still a little bit of a nightmare though, but that’s a problem for next week,” she smiled. Bette watched as Tina raked her fingers through the top of her hair to move it from her face. The gesture was so familiar that Bette anticipated her next move, Tina’s fingers lightly touching her mouth before resting on her lap. She had seen Tina do this more than a million times, and it still enchanted her. This is going to be hard.

Bette sat back, leaning her head against the sofa to face Tina while she spoke. She watched her sip her wine, the warm light reflecting from the crimson liquid.

”So you can relax now,” Bette stared into Tina’s hazel eyes. Tina extended her arm along the top of the sofa to rest her hand just behind Bette’s head.

”So I can relax now,” Tina repeated, gently touching the loose short curls at the nape of Bette’s neck. Bette felt herself melting as Tina watched her.

Tina firmed her hand behind Bette’s head, pulling herself closer to Bette’s face. Their eyes locked, Tina leaned her head down and kissed Bette’s mouth softly. ”I missed you,” Tina whispered into Bette’s mouth, who couldn’t help but smile. Bette watched Tina’s gaze travel down, knowing that in this position her shirt buttons would betray the seams, that her white lace bra would be visible through the gaps. Tina placed her wine glass on the shelf behind the sofa, and traced her fingers across Bette’s jaw.

”Bette?” Tina kissed her again.

”Yeah?” Bette replied, still aware of Tina’s fingers in the back of her hair.

”Your hair looks amazing like that,” Tina replied and Bette smiled, having guessed that Tina would mention it. At this point all of Bette’s resolve to have that discussion with Tina had faded into background noise, barely audible above her own breathing. Tina’s hand traveled down Bette’s neck as she continued to kiss her, following the chain of her necklace to the space between her collarbones.

Bette could feel her temperature rising, that her body was reacting to Tina in a way she had never been able to control. She felt the wine glass move out of her hand, and watched Tina’s freckled cleavage move past her face as she reached up and placed Bette’s glass next to her own. I tried, Bette thought weakly. Or I tried to try.