The Summer's Child Page 9

  "Mine?" She asked, amazed.

  "Yeah, I'm sick of wearing my White House dress." She was rifling through the closet. She pulled out one. "This black one would fit me right."

  "Well - I mean -"

  "Great." Samantha pulled off her top, and Roelle spun around, blushing furiously. “I’m ready to go downstairs.” Roelle turned around slowly. She didn’t know why seeing Samantha in her own dress was so painfully attractive, but it was. Samantha had pushed her hair in a bun, and she looked wonderfully elegant, without trying at all. Roelle bit her lip. She just wanted to take that dress straight off her and put the bed to good use.

  Wait no bad thoughts.

  Concentrate, Roelle.

  "Okay, you need something to flesh it out though,” she decided after a second. “It's totally black. You need something to light out the outfit.” She looked down at the jewelry box. “Why don't you wear this necklace?"

  "Oh, it's pretty," Samantha hummed.

  "Thanks, my grandmother gave it to me,” Roelle muttered distractedly, trying to put her thoughts back on an acceptable path. “Okay, now you look better. Put some makeup on."

  "Really?"

  "You can wear a severe dress like that and not wear makeup."

  "Are you sure?" Samantha whined. Roelle smirked.

  "Positive. Now, scram."

  Samantha emerged from the bathroom wearing evenly applied eyeliner, and her lashes sufficiently curled. Roelle grinned. "I knew that Daria wouldn't let you get away without learning the fundamentals of makeup."

  "She spent so many nights torturing me."

  "Well, you look awesome," Roelle choked out. That was the good, platonic response, right?

  "Thanks! Now, let's go. I realized if we're dressing in black tie, it means there is black tie level food available." Roelle held open the door for Samantha.

  "Fancy food?" She asked, following her out.

  "Yes,” Samantha said with a grin. “Here is the key."

  "Are you not taking a clutch?" Roelle asked, confused.

  "No. I'm just bring my phone, and I can put that on the table," Samantha explained, gesturing at her phone.

  "That's considered really rude in Europe," Roelle scolded. Samantha blinked in surprise.

  "Oh. Well, can I put it in your clutch?"

  "Why don't you bring your own?"

  "We don't both need one. Here, just slip it in."

  "Now it will barely close."

  "Don't be a baby."

  "I'm not," Roelle huffed, as she squeezed Samantha’s phone next to hers.

  "Okay, so what do you think game night entails?" Samantha asked as she held the door of the stairwell open to Roelle. Roelle laughed.

  "I have really no idea," she admitted. “But I’m excited.”

  Game night proved to be far more complicated than need be. Once they arrived in the lobby, they were invited by the overeager hosting couple to pull a number out of a hat, which assigned them to a specific table. They got number 3, and sat down. Mike and Mike, the gay men from the first night, were already sitting there, and they lit with delight when they arrived. The third couple was, to Samantha's dismay, Sweater Couple.

  "Ah, we're so excited we get to spend some time together again!" Katherine gushed, patting the spot next to her for Roelle. Samantha grimaced, and slid into the empty chair on Roelle's other side, which was blessedly next to Mike 1.

  "Have they mentioned what games we're going to play?" Samantha asked Mike 1, looking around the hall. There were six tables, each with three couples, and an envelope at the center of the table. Samantha reached for the envelope, but Mike 2 batted her hand away.

  "Not yet," he tsked. "We will receive our instructions with the first course."

  "But I want to know what's happening," Samantha whined. Mike 1 rolled his eyes.

  "No,” he hissed.

  "I think charades is going to be one of the games," Katherine decided.

  "Really?" Samantha raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes,” Katherine said with a small nod: “It's very popular in England."

  "Mike and Mike are British," Roelle said, gesturing at them.

  "Yes, we've been introduced,” James said, bristling, and Samantha tried to hide her smirk. She remembered how uncomfortable he was with the concept of gays.

  "Is charades popular in England?" Katherine asked Mike and Mike.

  "Well, I mean - probably?” Mike 1 offered with a small shrug. “We don't go to many dinner parties."

  "Is it because you're - you know?" James asked, gesturing between them.

  "Married? Probably," Mike 2 said, voice hard as he sat up in his seat. James coughed in embarrassment, and Samantha coughed in her elbow to cover up a laugh.

  "Anyway, are you excited to play games?" Roelle asked, and Mike 1 lit up.

  "Mike here gets very competitive," he said, gesturing at Mike 2.

  "Samantha pretends she doesn't, but she does too," Roelle agreed. Samantha gasped in insult.

  "Me? Charlie is the competitive one!" She protested.

  "Have you ever considered why you two get on so well?" Roelle asked, cocking an eyebrow. Samantha gaped at her, and then covered her mouth in horror.

  "Oh no," she whispered.

  "Yes."

  "Did you just have an epiphany?" Mike 1 asked giggling. Samantha looked at him in dismay.

  "Yes, I think I’m competitive," Samantha admitted. Mike 2 laughed.

  "Oh no," he joked. “We don’t want to sit here anymore!”

  “Stop it,” Mike 1 chastised. “We accept you despite your flaws, Samantha,” he assured her. Samantha stuck her tongue out at him, and he giggled.

  Franz cleared his throat, and his wife, Sylvie, smiled as they approached the microphone. “We’re so excited,” she told the room in only the smallest hint of a German accent while Franz fiddled with the microphone.

  "We're so excited about tonight," Sylvie added, once the microphone actually started behaving, "that we don't care whether or not technology will let us do this. We're going to do it!" There was polite laughter from the group, and Roelle smiled nervously with them.

  "Now, please go to your center pieces. As the chef brings out his brilliant soup, you will have the chance to write down three adjectives about yourself. You don't want anyone to guess who you are based on the adjectives, so don't chose obvious things, or even things that you might have discussed. Once you have decided on three adjectives, write them down, and then tuck the piece of paper in a bowl at the center of the table. Everyone, pick out one and read them aloud, along with the small number at the top of the piece of paper. While the reader reads the piece of paper, you should write down who you think it is." There was a general bustle as waiters started bringing out the soup, and everyone grabbed their central envelope. Mike handed out the three pieces of paper, as well as six pencils, and Samantha frowned down at her three words.

  What three words would no one guess about her? She looked around, pouting. She leaned over to try and spy on Roelle's, but Roelle swatted her away. Samantha made a face, and put down her three adjectives. "Brown hair" - that one was sneaky, since both the Mikes and Katherine also had brown hair - "creative" and ... she paused. And frowned. She didn't really know anything else.

  Gemini.

  There, that should do.

  Everyone else put their pieces of paper into the hat. Samantha glanced around at everyone, and then took out her longer bit of paper, on which she would have to write the answers.

  "Oh, this soup is good," Mike 1 murmured, grinning. "I think it’s carrot and ginger."

  "Are you trying to figure out which one of us likes spices? As a way to help?" Katherine asked, and then she giggled. Mike 1 looked at her, nonplussed, and then smiled politely, while giving Samantha a surreptitious shrug.

  "Okay, shall we start?" Mike 2 asked. The table murmured in agreement. "Roelle, will you start?"

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you seem to be the most trustworthy," Mike 1 explained. Roelle l
aughed.

  "I'm honored."

  Roelle pulled out the first piece of paper, but before she could read, the microphone went back on. "Of course," Sylvie said cheerfully, "the point of this game is to come up with adjectives not even your spouse can guess. If you and your spouse get every single question right about each other over the game, we will give you a special reward." Samantha tilted her head at Roelle in a small challenge, and Roelle rolled her eyes and shoved Samantha gently.

  "No way," she said with some finality. "We're not going to win that."

  "Ye of little faith," Mike chastised while he sipped at his soup. "Now, please, Roelle." Roelle cleared her throat, and read carefully.

  "Plays the saxophone," she read, "sings, artsy." James and Katherine's eyes both honed in on Samantha, and Samantha smirked. This was clearly a trick of Mike 2's. She wrote down his name. It was Katherine's turn to pull a name out of the bowl.

  "Painter, Anxious, Pet Lover," she read, and then made a face. Samantha sneaked a glance at Roelle, but she avoided Samantha's eye by focusing on her paper.

  So it was definitely her.

  Samantha smirked, and wrote down Roelle.

  James read next, he read Samantha's note, and then gave Mike 1 a long and searching look. Mike 2 read a note that had both the words "confident" and "golf" on them, so there was no question it was James. And then Mike 1 read the last quote, which Samantha had guessed by process of elimination would be Katherine's, but when he mentioned "amateur florist," her suspicions were confirmed.

  The votes were in, and everyone revealed who's was who's.

  "Did anyone get all 6?"

  "I did!" Samantha said, at the exact time that Roelle said "me."

  "Oh wow, look at that. Our actresses are leading the pack."

  "They cheated," James complained with a childish pout. "She said "brown hair!"

  "And yet, you didn't guess!"

  While the courses were served, they got more and more involved games like this, forcing them to find out more about each other. It was fun, and light hearted, and Samantha and Roelle kept on winning. When it came time for desert, Sylvie announced their final game.

  "It's the newlywed game!" She said, mispronouncing the American phrase slightly. While the waiters handed out white boards to each couple, and asked everyone if they wanted coffee with desert, Sylvie explained that the winner of every table would get special prizes.

  "And we have some great prizes!" she promised with a small eyebrow wiggle.

  Samantha decided she really liked Sylvie.

  "Okay, so do you guys ask us questions?" Roelle asked, looking at the rest of the table. Mike 1 nodded. "We each ask a question about Samantha, and then about you, so eight questions in total."

  "Oh, okay." Roelle glanced over at Samantha, and then gave her a wavering smile.

  "Can we go last?"

  "Well, we want to go first," James said quickly, "so sure." The Mikes shrugged.

  "Whatever works best," they decided.

  Coming up with questions for the Sweater Couple and the Mikes proved hard. James didn’t know what Katherine’s ideal date was, or how many cousins she had, and Katherine didn’t know James favorite band, or how his parents reacted to the proposal. Mike rolled his eyes.

  “Four out of eight?” He asked, incredulous. “Are you two even married?” Roelle laughed nervously next to Samantha, and Samantha squeezed her hand.

  The Mikes went next. They fared only marginally better; Mike 2 didn’t know what looked best on Mike 1 (“the bathrobe? Come on, Mike!”), and Mike 1 didn’t know what Mike 2 liked best about him (“my personality? Really? We both know this ass is what drew you in”) or where they had had their first date (“that was our first date? I thought it was our third…”).

  “Okay,” James said, rubbing his hands together. “You have to beat five points. Are you ready to go?” Roelle glanced at Samantha, who was holding her whiteboard at the ready, and her pen poised.

  “We’re ready,” Roelle decided.

  Katherine started: “What did your Samantha get you for your first Christmas together?” Roelle paused. The first Christmas, they had done the stealing secret Santa, so that didn’t count. “The first year we were together, we were doing a gift exchange, so nothing, but the second Christmas?” Roelle smiled. “Samantha sent my dog a squeaking ball.”

  Samantha flipped around the whiteboard: Ball for Tiffy.

  James was next: “What position does Samantha sleep in?”

  Roelle smiled. “Her left side.”

  Samantha flipped the whiteboard around: left.

  Mike sucked his lower lip, and then grinned. “If Samantha won the lottery, what would she buy?” He asked, grinning. Roelle laughed.

  “That’s too easy! A golden unicorn statue.”

  Samantha flipped the whiteboard around: UNICORN STATUE!!!!

  “Oh man,” Mike huffed. “You’re good at this. Fine, let’s give you an easy one. When and where was your first kiss?” Roelle felt panic fill her body like ice water trickling down the back of her spine. They hadn’t discussed that.

  Other people had gotten things wrong. This was fine.

  “Technically,” Roelle said, biting her lip, but Samantha’s eyes narrowed, so Roelle took another deep breath.

  Roelle suddenly remembered a moment. “When I had that part in the stage play in Boston,” she blurted out. Mike 2 raised an eyebrow, but Samantha flipped around the whiteboard.

  “Boston, 2014 – Rent.” Roelle exhaled a breath in nervous excitement, while something twisted deeper in her stomach.

  What did all this mean?

  No time to think about this now, as Samantha handed her the whiteboard.

  “So, Samantha actually only needs to get two right to win, right?’ Mike 1 asked. Mike 2 made a face, and nodded.

  “It’s true.”

  “They’re cheating,” James complained again. Mike 1 laughed.

  “Then ask harder questions.”

  Katherine went first again: “What is Roelle's favorite food?” Samantha paused. For a second, she wanted to say kale, but that wasn’t it. Roelle liked Mexican food, and sushi, but those weren’t it either. Samantha chuckled. “It’s Swedish meatballs, isn’t it?” She asked, turning to Roelle. Roelle laughed, and turned her whiteboard around.

  “Swedish meatballs.”

  “Yes!”

  “My question next,” said James. “What did Roelle think of you after your first date?” Samantha raised an eyebrow.

  “Mmh,” Samantha hummed, putting her arm around Roelle’s chair.

  “Don’t cheat and look at her whiteboard!”James protested.

  “Calm down, dude,” Mike 1 cautioned. “It’s just a game.”

  “She thought I was cute,” Samantha decided, “and very weird.”

  Roelle flipped the whiteboard around. “Weird.”

  “They should only get half a point for that!” James protested.

  “James, calm down,” Mike 2 warned, his voice steady. James shrunk a little in his seat. Mike 2 turned towards Samantha. “What would be Roelle’s ideal date?” Mike 2 asked. Samantha hummed.

  “A hike, probably with the dogs,” she decided.

  The whiteboard read ‘mountains plus dogs plus walking.’

  “Before you say anything, James, yes that counts,” Mike 1 said. “Now, my question: To which charity is Roelle most likely to donate money?”

  “That’s too easy. The ASPCA!”

  Roelle stared in amazement as she flipped over the board. "Aw yeah!" Samantha punched the air. "Eight for eight! We're the winners!"

  "Yay!"

  "Look at us go!"

  “I think we should have a celebratory kiss now,” Roelle whispered.

  “It would only be appropriate,” Samantha agreed, leaning forward, and slowly capturing Roelle’s lips.

  Roelle parted her lips for the kiss, only to sigh against the warmth of Samantha, and to breathe her in, taste her, but Samantha leaned into her, an
d opened her own mouth. Roelle realized she wanted this, and this might be her own chance. She leaned forward. The angle was a little off, but Roelle slid her hand into Samantha’s hair, and corrected it. Samantha reached up and touched Roelle’s cheek reverently, her hand strong against Roelle’s jaw. Roelle felt her breath catch in her throat, and her mind turn blank; her body felt on the urge of melting, and she didn't ever want to stop.

  "Ew," Mike 1 said with a sigh, breaking Roelle’s train of thought. She pulled away from Samantha, and let out a small terrified gasp. "I hate people like you," Mike muttered, totally unaware of Roelle’s look of panic.

  "Beautiful people," Mike 2 explained, "not lesbians." Samantha dropped her hands from Roelle’s face, her own face shocked. Roelle looked away.

  Oh no. That definitely shouldn’t have happened.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Samantha woke up, and rolled over in bed, confused. The solid warmth that had pressed against her all night was gone. She sat up, bleary eyed, and blinked into the weak morning light. The sun had barely crested the horizon, which meant it was early. "Roelle?" she croaked, surprised. Roelle looked up from where she was sitting, cross legged, in front of the glass doors out to the balcony. She put her phone down and sighed.

  "What are we doing, Samantha?" she asked, voice low. Samantha blinked in surprise, and noticed Roelle’s serious tone. She stifled a yawn, stretched, and tried to process the question.

  "Today?" she asked hopefully, clearing her throat when her voice sounded raw and scratchy. She wanted this to be a schedule question.

  "No.” Roelle looked away from Samantha, and out the window. “Me and you. What are we doing?"

  "Oh." Samantha bit her lip. She felt her heart sink as her stomach knotted in terror.

  "We can't keep ignoring things, and not talk about anything." They couldn't? Avoidance had been the best practice for Samantha her entire life. She hadn't come out to her parents until she was twenty four, at which point the media had made such a big deal out of it that she couldn't avoid it any longer. And still Giselle had had to basically force her into her. She breathed out steadily and clambered out of bed.