Page 19 of Saving Graces
Rosalie made a solid point of rolling her eyes.
“Whatever,” she said. Her stomach cramped.
Chapter Seven
Kinsey found herself smashing the drums with unnecessary vigor tonight. Eliza gave her a slight side-eye halfway through their set. Fingers aching around her sticks, Kinsey tried to tone it down. The point was not to drown out Cassidy after all, but try as she might there was a solid slam in each beat. The tension in her body had to go somewhere after all.
It had been a week since she’d met Rosalie. In fact, pretty much at precisely this moment, one week ago, she’d had Rosalie pressed against the wall at Howler watching those beautiful eyes go wide.
Kinsey smashed the drum kit harder. She could not get the image out of her mind, god, any of the images. Rosalie as she’d first seen her, gorgeous, tired and slightly prim in her office on a Saturday night; Rosalie with a glass of wine in her hand, temptation in her eyes; Rosalie with her clothes in disarray, her mouth-watering body almost bare in public, desperate for Kinsey to make her come; Rosalie sated and giggly, her eyes shining as Kinsey fixed her hair; Rosalie… rejecting her.
What a fucking rollercoaster. It was just a couple of hours out of her life, just a hot woman she’d briefly had the privilege of knowing. There were plenty more fish in the sea, no need to wallow for a week after. And yet. Kinsey could not stop thinking of her.
It was aggravating. Sure, it was true she didn’t get turned down a lot, but it was more than the unexpected ego sting. She just couldn’t help thinking there was something there, something desperately right about Rosalie, like there was a woman she’d be happy to spend years unraveling, and yet Rosalie didn’t want her back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Rosalie definitely wanted her - Kinsey swallowed a moan at the memory of all that slick wet want - but she wasn’t remotely prepared to consider Kinsey as a serious prospect. Hell she wasn’t even a dinner date prospect. And that was why Kinsey was in danger of causing irreversible harm to her snare drum.
What was a decade, anyway? If Kinsey had set her sights on an older man he’d be dying to flaunt the younger woman on his arm. What was the exact process of internalized misogyny that made Rosalie feel like wanting her was shameful? Kinsey was younger but she wasn’t young. She was three-and-a-half years off from thirty, a grown damn adult by anyone’s standards. She wasn’t immature and she knew exactly what she wanted from life. Not that Rosalie had stuck around long enough to work that out.
“You good?” Lane asked her at the bar afterward, their eyes astute as always. Cassidy, Eliza and Franklin were already at a table a yard away, eyes bright and laughter high, waiting for Kinsey and Lane to bring a second round. Kinsey sighed. She was desperate to pick Lane’s brain and demand they tell her every single thing they knew about Rosalie, but she knew that would be a terrible transgression of trust of the woman who’d shared her body with her. She wouldn’t do it.
“Ugh, you know,” she said instead. “Girl stuff.”
Lane frowned. “What’s up? I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”
“I wish,” she said. “I liked someone. I maybe came on a little strong. They ran for the hills.”
“Huh,” Lane said thoughtfully. The two of them inched further up the queue. “No offense, but you seem a little too cool to have thrown yourself at someone who didn’t like you back.”
“Oh she liked me.” Kinsey had a little flash of Rosalie slipping her tongue into her mouth and she barely repressed a shiver. “Apparently actually dating me was out of the question though.”
“She wanted no strings,” Lane translated. “And you wanted a whole ball of them.”
“Pretty much.” Kinsey rolled her eyes at herself. “God. How embarrassing.”
“I used to feel that way,” Lane said. “Like the idea of liking someone enough that I could get hurt by them was pretty much the worst thing that could happen to me.”
“It’s not the greatest feeling,” Kinsey agreed.
“Then Rosalie told me that I was stuck in a repeating pattern.” Kinsey almost flinched when they said her name, but Lane didn’t notice. “She said that having experienced rejection from my family, I anticipated rejection every time I met a girl, so I made sure to reject her first. But then the outcome was always the same: I ended up alone and not having the thing I actually wanted.”
“Rosalie sounds smart,” Kinsey said, her jaw clenching slightly against asking more.
“She’s a pain in the ass.” Lane smiled. “I’ve literally never been able to get anything past her. But then again, she did counsel me for like an entire decade.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was one of her shelter kids. You didn’t know?”
“Shit, Lane, no, I didn’t.” It explained why Rosalie had known Lane since they were a teenager, and why she seemed so creeped out by the idea of dating one of their friends. A hard fast professional boundary. Damn, even Kinsey had to respect that.
“She saved my life. She and Sa- her best friend. Like, they’re both amazing. But anyway,” they changed tack, “her point was that being vulnerable enough to let yourself like someone meant tolerating rejection some of the time. But the alternative was to cut off your own feelings and miss out forever.”
“Ugh,” Kinsey said. “I think I need to get drunk.”
“That’s the spirit.” Lane slapped her on the back.
They joined the others at the table, everyone toasting their beers to another great gig. Cassidy had been on fire. Her voice was always beautiful but the venue was bigger tonight, the sound system huge, and to hear her filling up the room… Kinsey knew it was just a matter of time before they blew up. They just needed the right break.
As if on cue, a woman stopped by their table.
