“You don’t need to explain-” Dylan tried to say, but Helena shook her head, halting her words.

It was with a barely visible blush that she told the other woman, “Honestly, Dylan, I’m a little…embarrassed and unsure as towhat to think of it.”

Feeling the burning touches of reject clinging to her feet and knowing that the Brit was about to brush their kiss under the carpet – that thought alone causing a raw panic to skim up her spine – Dylan asked, “Did you feel anything?” Her eyes focused on the fidgeting brunette before her, unable to drop the topic. She thought perhaps she was pushing too far for such a new friendship, but the Californian was far too enthralled in such intense feelings to back down and ignore, what she believed to be, the start of something magnificent. 

Helena’s body silently hummed to itself, though she soon found she was unable to answer Dylan’s question and instead remained silent, the look in her eyes the only response Dylan needed. Shifting in her seat now, she moved closer to the British beauty and tentatively placed one hand over the balled-up fist by Helena’s leg.

Helena glanced down at their hands as Dylan’s warm digits glided smoothly over the dips in her knuckles, finally prying the tension from her coiled fist and intertwining their fingers. She took a moment to witness their skin together, her own hand looking obscurely pale and dull in comparison to Dylan’s evenly tanned flesh. She could hear more than feel her heart beating rapidly, the only sensation her mind thought appropriate to lend her being that in the hand Dylan was clasping, and as her eyes returned to the other woman’s she found much of the same feeling dancing within her mahogany orbs.

She wasn’t sure who leant forward first, but soon enough their lips had met in an agonisingly desperate kiss. Helena felt her head roll with fever as Dylan’s lips stilled on her own, the sensation almost too perfect to stand, and by the time their lips began to move once again, tongues darting back and forth, simultaneously within and without, the Brit forgot that she was kissing another woman and gave into pure and unadulterated feeling. Communicating through their tongues, both women knew as soon as they began tugging at clothing, warm hands slipping under shirts, nimble fingers sliding up dress hems, that there was no going back. Helena had stepped blindly onto this path, but now that she was here she was quite determined to walk on regardless of whatever fears and doubts she held.