Zoe pulled off her apron and tossed it onto the rack with a weary sigh. The noise of the kitchen faded behind her as she stood in front of her locker, unmoving.
It had been days since that conversation with Lesley at the café. Since hearing the truth she already knew: Stacy deserved honesty. And still... the words never seemed to come.
She changed into fresh clothes, closed her locker, and ran a hand through her hair. Maybe tonight. Maybe she'd finally tell her.
-
When she reached their apartment, she took a moment to collect herself—smoothing her hair, steadying her breath—before unlocking the door.
She stepped inside their small apartment, kicking off her shoes and setting her bag down near the table. The warm scent of garlic and herbs hit her like a soft wave.
She sniffed the air, eyes widening. "Okay... what is that smell? It's amazing."
Stacy peeked from the kitchen, grinning as she stirred something over the stove. "It better be. I added my secret ingredient."
Zoe smiled, already walking toward her. "Oh? And what would that be?"
Stacy leaned her head dramatically over the pot and whispered, "Love."
Zoe laughed softly. "Ahh. No wonder it smells like a hug."
"Dinner's almost done," Stacy said, her voice bright. "Why don't you go shower first? Then we can eat while it's still hot."
But Zoe didn't move. Instead, she stepped behind Stacy and wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing her face into the curve of her shoulder.
"I just want to hold you for a second," she whispered. "Can I?"
Stacy leaned back into her, setting the spoon down with a smile. "You never have to ask."
Zoe squeezed her tighter, eyes closing for a moment. The weight of her secret pressed harder against her chest—but here, in Stacy's arms, it almost felt manageable.
"Want me to bathe you?" Stacy said teasingly, her voice low in Zoe's ear.
Zoe pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. She nodded, a bit shyly, but with a smile.
Stacy turned off the stove and reached for Zoe's hand. "Come on then," she said softly, her thumb brushing the inside of Zoe's palm. "I'll take care of you."
The bathroom filled with soft steam, curling along the edges of the glass like the breath of something intimate and alive.
Zoe stepped into the shower first, the warm water cascading down her skin. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, letting it wash over her. The heat wasn't just physical—it was the anticipation, the quiet hum beneath her skin. She didn't have to wait long.
Stacy stepped in—close, unhurried. Neither of them said a word.
Zoe felt her before she saw her—the gentle brush of fingertips trailing up her arms, then slipping around her waist, pulling her back into Stacy's body. She gasped softly, but didn't resist. She leaned into the touch, into the want.
Stacy lowered her lips to Zoe's back, kissing the curve of her spine—slow, deliberate. Then higher, the nape of her neck, just beneath her damp hair. Her breath was warm against wet skin.
Zoe exhaled, hands bracing lightly against the tile. She tilted her head to one side, granting more access, and Stacy took it—her mouth moving with reverence, with hunger held in check only by love.
The sound of water softened everything, a quiet rhythm behind their breathing.
Zoe whispered, "Touch me like you mean it."
Stacy's hands slid over her hips, then up her ribcage, exploring like she was learning her all over again. "I always do," she murmured against her skin. "You're not something I ever take lightly."
Zoe turned slowly to face her, droplets catching on her lashes. Their eyes locked. Everything else dissolved.
When they kissed, it was molten—needy and tender all at once. Stacy's hands cradled Zoe's face, thumbs brushing her cheeks like she was fragile, precious. Zoe clutched the back of Stacy's neck, pulling her closer, desperate to feel all of her.
Their bodies met again and again—hips, hands, mouths—each connection a vow unspoken.
"You're mine," Zoe whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.
Stacy kissed her harder. "I always have been."
The water kept pouring down, unnoticed.
What mattered was the way they held each other, how every kiss deepened, how every breath was shared.
No fear. No masks. No pretending.
Just love. And longing. And everything they didn't need to say.
-
Steam still clung faintly to the air of their bedroom, the scent of lavender soap lingering on Zoe's skin as she lay beside Stacy beneath the warm sheets. Dinner was forgotten in the kitchen; the world had shrunk to the quiet rhythm of night, the hum of the ceiling fan, and the subtle weight of the woman sleeping next to her.
Stacy had drifted off quickly, exhaustion pulling her under almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. Zoe, on the other hand, lay awake in the dim glow from the bedside lamp, her eyes tracing the soft rise and fall of Stacy's breathing.
She couldn't help herself.
With careful fingers, she brushed aside a stray lock of hair that had fallen across Stacy's cheek. The strands were still damp from the shower, cool and silky between Zoe's fingertips. She tucked them gently behind Stacy's ear, lingering for a moment longer than she should've—letting her thumb graze the familiar curve of her cheek.
Stacy didn't stir.
Zoe swallowed, a tight ache gathering in her chest. She hadn't told her yet—again. Not tonight. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe she was terrified of making everything harder, of adding weight to the load Stacy already carried.
But hiding it... hiding it was hurting her too.
A soft breath shuddered out of her, and before she could stop it, a tear escaped—slipping warm and silent across her skin, disappearing into the pillow.
"I'll tell you soon, my love," she whispered, barely a breath of sound. "I hope you'll understand me then."
As if the words brushed against her, Stacy shifted. Zoe startled, quickly wiping the wetness from her cheeks, willing her expression into calm.
Stacy's eyes fluttered open—heavy, hazy with sleep—but they found Zoe instantly, like instinct.
Zoe offered a small, tender smile, trying to look untroubled.
Stacy's lips curved faintly. "Let's sleep, babe," she murmured, her voice soft and gravelled with drowsiness.
Zoe nodded. She slid closer, melting into the space Stacy opened for her. She rested her head on Stacy's shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo and the warmth radiating from her skin.
Stacy's arm wrapped around her—tight, protective, the way she always held her when she thought she needed anchoring. Her fingers traced soothing lines down her arm before settling, holding her a little closer than before.
Within moments, Stacy drifted back to sleep, her breathing evening out.
Wrapped safely in that embrace, Zoe let her own eyes fall shut.
This time, she didn't cry.
This time, she just breathed—quietly, slowly—until sleep claimed her too.