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How She Knows (F/F)


zakandsara

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This is sort of a prequel to a story I started on the adult forum. There’s more to come here, if ya want it. 
 

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The story of how she found out- how I told her, more accurately, as it wasn’t so much of a discovery as it was an admission- is one I think of often and get to tell never. It’s not exactly something you share as a cute, coupley anecdote at a cocktail party, and it certainly won’t be a moment mentioned in our wedding vows, but it’s a defining one nonetheless. It was the first time anyone had truly asked to see me. It was the first time I allowed myself to be seen. It was about six months ago. 

 

She was away, and I missed her. Not too far- not like when she’s in London or California or back home in Australia and she’s literally a day away. She was in Georgia, and I was in New York, and I missed her anyway, almost as much as I would if she were on the other side of the world. 

 

We talked enough, considering we’d just hit our 9-month-iversary, and she wasn’t terribly interested in constant texting, and she was maybe the busiest person I knew. She called me when she could. I texted her, knowing it’d be an hour before she responded, but being willing to wait. She knew I was desperate to talk to, be near, see her. I knew she was more emotionally mature than to need it as much as I did. We met in the middle. 

 

She flew me out to see her about 3 weeks into her stay. The movie she was shooting had a break in production, and she knew I was getting antsy. So I took a long weekend, left the sticky, tepid trappings of New York City in late spring, and hopped on a plane to see her. 

 

I arrived nervous, strangely, even though we had spoken an hour before take-off. I worried that our rhythm would be off, that we’d have somehow forgotten each other.  That she’d have forgotten me. 

 

I waited, impatiently as ever, at the terminal, for her rented black Prius to pull up. She was a great driver, despite having learned to do it on the opposite side of the road. I’d missed our occasional trips upstate, when she’d wind through snowy back roads and she’d put a hand on my knee and I’d shiver, even with the heat on. 

 

I felt a buzz in my pocket, and I unlocked my phone, fumbling with the bags I had slung over my shoulder. 

 

Cross the street. xo

 

I looked up, saw the car, shut my eyes for a second to regain my composure, and immediately moved forward, almost forgetting to even check for cars on the road. 

 

I saw her, as I approached, through the passenger window, and even from feet away with a slight tint obscuring my sightline, she was so beautiful, so wonderful, so finally right-there-in-front-of-me, I could’ve screamed. 

 

She stepped out, sauntering around the front of the car, willing me to come to her. Which I did, happily. 

 

“Oh my god. Hi,” I said, grinning and dropping my bags and falling into her. I buried my head in the spot under her chin where I fit just right. I squeezed her tight, breathed her in. I pulled back to kiss her, finally, slowly, miraculously. “Hi,” I said again, into her lips. 

 

“Hi to you, too,” she whispered, her low, velvety growl sending hot liquid through my veins. “You made it.”

 

“I made it,” I repeated, smiling like a fool. “God, you’re even more beautiful than I remember. Somehow.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “And you’re even more of a kiss ass,” she said with a smirk, taking one of my bags and depositing it into the back. 

 

I half-laughed. She loved to tease me about this. It was understandable that compliments made her feel weird; she was used to them from all over, from fans, from directors and producers trying to manipulate her. When it finally got to be my turn, she was sick of it. But still. How could I help it?

 

I joined her in the front, sliding into car that rested low to the ground. As she settled into the driver’s seat, I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, quickly, playfully. 

 

She put a hand under my chin, rubbed my face with her thumb. “Thank you for coming.”

 

I cocked my head. “I’d have fucking walked here if it meant finally seeing you.”

 

She back out of the parking spot, confident and cool and casual, just like always. “You say ‘finally’ as if it’s been years.”

 

I shrug. “New York is boring without you.” This was a conversation we had often. I didn’t love the city, even though I’d lived there before she did. She didn’t understand how I could not love it. She also didn’t understand what it was like to be a regular person there, and not live in a doormanned building. But we never really got to that part of the fight. 

 

“You should try Georgia, babe,” she said, almost condescendingly, but in the way I liked. In the way that reminded me of the seemingly inaccessible power that made me become enamored with her in the first place. 

 

“I think I just might,” I said, feigning a strong southern accent, which made her laugh, which made me grin again. “Seriously though. What do we do around here?” 

 

She shrugged, an odd look suddenly passing over her face, like she was distracted. She kept her eyes on the road, and remained her painfully casual self, but I watched as her chest rose with tiny, quick breaths. Her mouth fell open ever-so-slightly. Her eyes squinted. Until she took a final, shallow breath in and snapped behind a balled fist. 

 

“Heh’KnDtschh-iuh!” 

 

My heart beat faster. It had been weeks since I’d seen her, but it’d been considerably longer since I’d seen her do that. I almost forgot how to respond. 

 

“Bless you,” I told her, aiming to sound as normal as possible, as always. 

 

She wrinkled her nose, raised an eyebrow at me, half-smiled. “Thanks, love.” She slowed to a stop, pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “What do you want to do around here? You hungry?”

 

I shrugged, still recalibrating from her sudden and so immediate sneeze, which I hated, because it still pained and shamed me that that was what, above all, turned me on. And I loved, because having a secret was fun, and sexy, and mine. Especially when it was a dirty secret. 

 

“I could eat,” I finally said as she pulled away, searched out the windshield for something, and made a sudden U-turn. 

 

I sat up straighter, craned to see what she was looking at. 

 

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “The best brunch place is behind us.”

 

I shook my head. “I trust you.”

 

She smiled. “Thank you for coming. Honestly. I’m touched by how desperate you were to visit.”

 

I laughed. “Wow, thanks.” Her cheeky sensibility often made it so that even when she was being sincere, she sounded like she was teasing me. 

 

“No, no,” she said quickly, laughing, too. “I mean it sincerely.”

 

I put a hand on her forearm, slowly slid it down until my fingers were laced with hers. “I know.”

 

She squeezed, turned the steering wheel confidently with just one hand, which still impressed and titillated me. “It’s not as hot as I was expecting.”

 

She shrugged. “Not yet. It’s still morning. Wait til the afternoon- that’s when...”

 

She trailed off, and it took me a second to turn back from the window to look at her and find out what was going on. 

 

Her mouth was resting opening again, and she took small, desperate breaths until she released her free hand from mine and bent behind it. 

 

“Hehn’iHkdtSchhT! ‘Scuse me, that’s when it’s unbearable.”

 

I froze again, assessing the situation. She never sneezed more than once in this short of a time period, unless she was sick, and even then, it was rare. “Bless you,” I said quickly, while my mind fought to catch up. 

 

“Thanks,” she said again, rubbing at her nose. I thought about saying something, but I was far too entranced to be able to do it without raising suspicion. Or, at least, that’s what my brain told me as I watched her, unbelievably, take another shaky breath in. 

 

“Heht’iHnKgschht-iUhh! Damn it,” she shook her head, and I looked on, knowing that acting like it wasn’t happening was weirder than saying something. 

 

“You alright?” was all I could manage. 

 

She nodded, cleared her throat a bit. “Yeah, I’m fine. You may have to get used to this, though. Temporarily.” 

 

I was thankful, at that moment, that she couldn’t see my face or feel my heart race or my breath quicken. “Why’s that?” I tried hard to remain casual. 

 

She put a hand back over mine as she swung into the parking lot of our next destination. She flipped her sunglasses on top of her head and unbuckled, turning to me finally. “Allergies are crazy in Georgia.”

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