Chapter 2 Two Drinks, No Music
743 Words
Joelle had planned to be quick. Get the second set of keys from the front desk, maybe stop for tea. No lingering. No conversations.
Definitely no run-ins.
But there she was.
Talia.
Curled up on one of the lobby benches like she’d been dropped there by accident headphones in, one foot tucked under the other, hair in that same loose knot that didn’t look styled so much as lived in. She wore an oversized sweatshirt that probably wasn’t hers, and her bare ankle tapped the bench to a rhythm Joelle couldn’t hear.
Joelle turned, almost instinctively.
Talia opened her eyes.
Just like that. Like she’d been waiting.
“You live here,” she said, as if it were new information.
Joelle forced a breath through her nose. “Apparently.”
Talia sat up slowly, taking out one earbud. “Was starting to think I hallucinated you in that elevator.”
Joelle gave her a look. Dry. “That would’ve been one hell of a hallucination.”
Talia smiled. “Maybe. But I remember the socks. Striped, right?”
Joelle looked down plain white today. “You catalog feet?”
“Only on Tuesdays.”
A pause.
Joelle almost said something else, but the guy at the front desk cleared his throat, handed over her key fob, and gave them both a knowing glance before returning to whatever was on his screen.
Joelle turned back to Talia.
“You always hang out in the lobby?”
“Sometimes. You get better stories down here.” She leaned back, stretching her arms out along the bench like she owned it. “You want a drink?”
Joelle blinked. “What?”
“I mean I’m offering to have one with you. Not trying to hand you a flask or anything.”
“You asking me out?”
Talia shook her head. “I don’t ask people out when they look like they haven’t slept in three days. I’m asking if you want company that won’t ask questions.”
Joelle paused. “You’re assuming I want company.”
“I’m assuming you didn’t come all the way downstairs just for a spare key.”
That made Joelle laugh, softly. It caught her off guard.
“Alright,” she said, finally. “One drink.”
They went upstairs Joelle’s place.
Talia didn’t even hesitate. She walked in like the air was familiar, like it smelled like something she remembered from childhood.
Joelle poured them both a glass of the good wine. No music. No pretense. Just the two of them at the kitchen island, facing each other across polished stone and the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling.
“This place is neat,” Talia said, running her finger along the counter. “Too neat. You unpacked already?”
“Half. I like knowing where things are.”
Talia nodded. “Control thing.”
Joelle sipped. “You always say exactly what you’re thinking?”
“Only when I’m sober.”
Joelle smiled despite herself. “You’re sober now?”
Talia held up her glass. “Not for long.”
They drank.
The silence stretched but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was… suspended.
Joelle studied the way Talia sat. The way she moved. Casual, like nothing cost her energy. Her hand moved when she spoke. Her eyes stayed on Joelle’s.
“You live alone?” Joelle asked.
Talia nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“Now I do.”
Talia didn’t press.
Didn’t say why?, or what happened?, or are you okay?
She just nodded again. “Alone’s not the same as lonely.”
Joelle met her eyes.
“No,” she said. “It’s not.”
They talked about nothing.
And in that nothing, something began.
It wasn’t flirting not exactly. It wasn’t tension, either. It was more like curiosity. Two women noticing how carefully the other breathed. How long their glances held. How the pauses felt fuller than the words.
Talia finished her glass and stood.
“No music, huh?”
Joelle shook her head. “I don’t like background noise.”
Talia walked toward the door. “Maybe you haven’t had the right kind.”
Joelle raised an eyebrow. “You volunteering?”
Talia just smiled. “I live twelve down. If you get tired of silence.”
Then she was gone.
And Joelle stood in the quiet, not sure whether to pour another drink or just replay the sound of her voice.
- Writer
