Invitation

II INVITATION

“Why aren’t we on the same shift?” Luna asked, stocking shelves with Galla in the peace of the early hour solitude, suspecting she knew the truth behind it.

Galla, intentionally asked for the shift change, shrugged, “You need more recovery time then me.”

“True,” Luna laughed, “you deserve to be punished.”

“Yeah, well, the weekend was exhausting enough. Maybe we should feign ignorance of classical music,” Galla grumbled

“Luna,” came the clipped voice through her earpiece.

“Send,” as an unfocused, concentrated look came into her eyes.

“Visitor. L one, A2 two,” Ivie’s directions precise.

“Okay,” Luna shrugged, saying to Galla, “I’ve a visitor. Waiting near the café downstairs.”

Galla, knowing Chloe waited, looked at her watch, “Its three. You knock off anyway.”

“I guess I’ll see who it is first,” frowning, “Kai wouldn’t be off work yet,” her face cleared as she looked at Galla and smiled, “How about we form a band to keep us out of classical. Country music week is coming up. I should totally do it with the flute.”

“I could use the sitar?”

They walked together to the elevators, and as they passed Calais coming out of the lifts, Galla said “I’m going for fifteen.”

He nodded as they entered the lift before Galla continued, “Sounds like a duo to me. All we need is a name and to tell Ivie.”

“Flusi?” Luna suggested, laughing, “country music week needs a sitar – flute duo called Flusi.”

Still laughing, they exited onto level one, heading past the back racks. Several people wandered around, the bitter cold outside pushing them into Pacer’s central heating. Coming to the customised stage area, a raised platform adjacent to the band area located in the left hand corner, though staff dance performances rarely stayed on this stage, often co-opting rows of stock and counter space, as if some retail Parkour. Standing in the recess between the stage and the multi-tiered café section is Chloe.

Luna and Galla paused before Luna moved forward, a confounded smile on her face, “Chloe?”

Chloe, like the last time, is wearing a suit, this time a tailored charcoal grey pant suit, the hint of glossy blue shirt collar complimenting the deepness of her skin. Her heavy wool jacket is unbuttoned to the warmth and a bag sat on the floor between her feet.

Indicating the bag, her voice evocative, depths of whiskey and rust shuddering through Luna as she said, “I thought you may like a knock off snack.”

“Excuse me. I’ve just been called,” Galla discreetly slipped away, smiling at her friends incredulous expression.

“Thanks,” Luna stumbled at Chloe, her palms starting to sweat, heartbeat flickering into a faster beat, mind fluttered, racing thoughts crashing into each other with startling fury. Luna hadn’t seen her over the weekend she spent volunteering with Galla for Jamere, and after the week of soft attention, she missed her presence.

“Would you like me to wait here?”

“Ahh…Yes,” Luna attempting, unsuccessfully, to keep the tremor out of her voice.

After five days of showing up with a gift and a coffee, and with the three day break, here she is standing their, waiting, looking beautiful, offering more time. Luna gives herself permission to feel the relentless triggered emotions unwinding within her of hope.

“Okay,” Chloe smiled.

Luna took the staff elevator to the basement levels and edged into the staff locker room. Galla, waiting and smiling, “Well, Beethoven?”

Luna felt both exhilarated and terrified, “I don’t know. What should I do?”

“Luna. Please. I see you watching. Waiting for her.”

“I do not,” Luna feigning exasperation, lied, ignoring the sense of longing she held for Chloe, a lingering memory of sparked lust her attention initiated.

“Luna,” sighed Galla as only a best friend could.

“Okay, okay,” Luna whisper laughed, “She does leave quite an impression.”

“What did Kai say?”

“Nothing,” Luna frowned, “not mentioned since Harper’s when you said…” she shrugged, justifying to herself fantasies of Chloe spiralling her away from Kai.

“You didn’t tell Kai about three am?” Galla asked, “what did you tell Beethoven?”

“Um…I asked her to wait. No. Actually, she told me she’d would wait,” Luna smiled at the certainty in Chloe’s voice, “and why would I? He’s always disinterested in here.”

Galla leaned in, “remember that skanky bar…”

“Yes…” Luna nodded, “Galla…”

“Then go…”

Luna smiled and stood from the bench, “I guess I could. Call me?”

Galla nodded, pushing for any break in Luna’s shell of isolation, “You know it. I need the gossip. Will call after eight.”

Galla stood and went to walk out, pausing to half turned back towards Luna, “We still on for dinner before shift tomorrow?”

Luna shoved her locker closed, crossing the gap between them, still flustered, replying, “Yes, of course. I remember.”

As Galla returned to level two, Luna walked out on level one. Chloe was waiting exactly where Luna left her, “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” smiled Chloe, picking up her bag to walk towards the door, exiting Pacer into the frigid air, iciness enveloping them.

As Luna pulled her thinning jacket around her, Chloe reached her gloved hand out and lightly touched Luna’s arm, “I’ve this idea. Are you game?”

Luna nodded. She already committed to this, looking towards a black town car Chloe indicated. A driver stood at the door, opening it with an imperceptible nod from Chloe. They slipped in to the warmth of the interior and eased into traffic, constant yet muted. A shimmer of transparency drifted between them, a sense of serene tranquillity. Alignments within them shifting, changing towards a jigsaw fitting together. The heat of the interior loosened the conversation.

“So, are you going to tell me this idea?”

“No. Not at all. I want it to be a surprise,” a knowing smile lulled on her lips.

“What, last week wasn’t enough? And now to bringing me food at three am?”

“You have to start somewhere. May as well be memorable,” Chloe’s deep smile was infectious.

Luna laughed with genuine delight, relaxing into the chocolate pool of Chloe’s eyes, “How’d you know I was working?”

“You don’t need to know. Honestly.”

“Really….” Luna raised her eyebrow, a whispered arch of a smile edging at the corners of her lips, already knowing Galla sold her out.

An enigmatic smile crossed Chloe’s face, “I’ve had you on my mind since we met. I called Pacer and Ivie said they could not release personal information pertaining to staff. So I was forced to reconsider my approach.”

“Reconsider? I guess this new approach worked. Impressive,” Luna said, “Yet its been days since you or I was in. Who was your contact? This insider?”

“I’m a determined person,” Chloe indiffidently shrugged before an outrageous smile shone across her face, “I just know how to get what I want. Scheduling difficulties meant I could not get in earlier. Who said I’d an insider?”

“Scheduling difficulties? What do you do?” Luna asked incredulously, diverting from the flush creeping across her face, as the car glided against the curb elegantly to a stop, “Where three am is a date time?”

Chloe’s warm smile distracted Luna long enough for the driver to open the door to the footpath Chloe indicated, “Go on.”

Luna stepped out of the car and onto the footpath, noticing immediately the concierge, suited and gloved, and perfectly straight trees recessed into the brick paved footpath. She exhaled swiftly, uncomfortable, her awkward stance betraying her, recognising the obvious signs of the wealthiest enclave of the city, Clovia Hill. Chloe, basket in one arm, stood from the car and presumptuously slipped her hand through Luna’s elbow efficiently wrapping them together, “Come.”

Luna tensed at the close contact, having spent years curating a very select group of people who could touch her, with whom she could be intimate with. Everyone else she wore a very secure mask, protectively shielding herself.

Chloe ignored this tensing to led the pair into a lobby, softened by recessed yellow gold lighting, past the desk clerk where she directed Luna to the elevator, and upon swiping a security pass, pressed the silver penthouse button. The elevator made no sound and shifted skyward with limited carriage movement. In an all too unnoticeable time, the door slid open to an ante-room. Chloe, carefully observing Luna, unlocked the main double heavy oak doors and up a heavy black iron spiral stair case to the roof.

“Wow,” Luna exhaled softly, “This is amazing. Beautiful. What is this place?”

“This is my home,” Chloe answered, leading Luna through the maze pathway of the glasshouse, teaming with vibrant plant life.

The cool black sky glittered above, kept out of the garden by delicate and intricately tailored glass walls and a crystalline liquid glass roof, bound by cohesive black twisted metal patterned spider webs. Luna could hear water tumbling over stones and splashing into a pool next a small grass recess.

For Luna, it is breathtaking, her sense of wonder twisting away towards the day. Chloe led Luna through to a small timber bench sitting at the edge of the stone waterfall and began to unpack roasted walnuts, honey-plumb cherries and warm mulled wine. She had hedged her bets by taking it with her, in case Luna was unwilling to come out with her, let alone accompany her home.

“This is a garden,” Luna breathed, “but how,” whispering as she reached out to caress a fern, before standing to look into the pool, refracting the distorted night sky beauty.

“Contractors, money and influence are very useful,” Chloe, taking unfettered pleasure in Luna’s visceral response to the rooftop glasshouse, replied.

“Immeasurably beautiful. Really.”

“Thank you. Here,” placing a plate and wine on the edge of the timber bench.

Luna returned to pick them up and sit down, still gazing around, taking in the splendour and details. She made sure to avoided places of natural beauty in this city, escaping any chance for reminders of her youth. It is the attraction this city, full of cement and glass towers, banishing darkness from her so she could ignore he heart. Glossy lights helped Luna keep the wild away, allowing her to leave her history coiled in the dark. Yet, this, now was enchanting to Luna, spiralling her into memories unopened for a long while. She drifted across this memory plateau before the smell of rubies beneath the vine and salt upon the lips woke her up.

The heaviness of her mind deepened her voice as she said, “Thank you for showing me this. I would never have thought this could possibly exist in a city such as this.”

Chloe drifted with the hazards dancing across Luna’s dragon fire green eyes and waits suspended, timeless before she returns to fold back into herself. Chloe smiles, both grateful and in awe of Luna, a gift of presence in the garden sanctuary.

Chloe collected herself replying with a gentle laugh, “Well. They are rare. Unless you follow strangers with them home often.”

Luna shrugged defensively, instantly wrapped inwards around herself, shutting Chloe out, “Eh. You were allowed to do this?”

“What kind of answer is that?” said Chloe, in an attempt to lift the air between them, “It helps when you own the building.”

“I was taught all about strangers and the dangers they represent. All manner of strangers,” Luna’s face became troubled, drifting towards darkness before quickly forcing herself to smiling, and asking, “you own this building?”

The warmth on Chloe’s face fell, wavered for a moment, hesitating at the strange seriousness in Luna’s voice and within her reply. Chloe watched the delicate features bleed together, busy and traumatised, pulling troubling memories back together in a circular paradigm. Concern filtered heavily as she asked, “What did I say?”

Luna, overwhelmed, shook herself before settling into a more radiant smile, answering, “Sorry. Nothing. This looks perfect, smells divine. This building is huge, you own it?”

Chloe waved off Luna’s comment, shrugging, drifting into indifference, “It is as it is.”

“Apathy in privilege is scandalous,” Luna teased.

“No. Never apathetic. Complicated,” Chloe, half joking, said, hands up in submission.

“Okay,” Luna understood complicated. It dominated her life, structured her past, dictated her future.

Chloe looked sharply at Luna for such unequivocal acceptance of the explanation, before allowing it to pass. Chloe in observing this intense young lady is fascinated by her unreadability, easily seeing why she left such an impression at Pacer and had since remained indelibly etched inside Chloe.

The pair nibbled on the food, sipping the wine, relaxing towards each other in intricate spirals of warmth and pleasure, Luna inescapably enthralled. Chloe leaned to kiss Luna, opening that which she could never get back: hope. She had spent her whole life anticipating herself, keeping her darkness hidden, the fractured parts of herself unfixed and in an instant within this kiss, gentle and soft mixed with wine and cinnamon, tore her apart. Time suspended, stretched inside two souls emerging, awakening each other. Luna and Chloe cocooned intimately, preciously devouring tastes of each other.

***

“Breakfast?” Chloe’s coffee machine hummed, splattering dark liquid into the mug.

“Yes,” Luna, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, asked, “what time is it?”

“Three,” the machine quietened to a spitting stop, “Coffee?”

“Please. Do you have juice? Lunch would be more appropriate at this point.”

“Yes. Have any idea of where we should breakfast? Or, in fact, Lunch?” Chloe smiled at her, handing her a glass of juice, turning to push the machine to life.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because you’re finally here.”

“We’ve only just met…” Luna felt odd and out of place, yet already not alone. She did know how to process this. That missing puzzle piece oddly shaped shifted into Chloe, who had broken so far into her safe zone that she caused the tide to rush in again, coursing through the infinite space between her thighs, “Oh…I’ve an idea for lunch.”

Chloe felt the charge spark, the shift in air flow, the scent upon her tongue. She came around the bench and drifted into the abyss, enjoying her tasting faintly of tangerine and honey, her taste intoxicating. In that moment, she let go, finally, against Chloe’s tongue, splashing out against her, arching into her mouth. This, now, is inescapable, this irredeemable hope unravelling between them. How could she forgive herself for wanting this beyond herself, wanting this floating ecstasy so far beyond everything her conciseness swept her beneath as she lost it.

***

Lying over the sofa, softly sweaty, tangled in each other, “This is an interesting first date.”

“Yes. Unexpected.” Luna felt the salt deep in her voice, an undercurrent of Chloe’s husky tone, continued, “I actually need to go…”

“Working?”

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure Galla will just have to know what happened.”

“Your number?”

“Is written on your fridge,” Luna stood and began to find and pull on her scattered clothes, suddenly unsure and shy, thinking her impulse control is completely shattered. Luna stuttered her goodbye as she fled, panic fizzing inside of her.

Chloe lay on the sofa after Luna slipped out, smiling, feeling exhilarated. She pushed herself up and walked over to the counter, picking up her mobile, to find sixteen missed text messages, four missed calls and sole voice mail and was grateful she turned it on silent. They were all from Caro, Arlo and Quin.

Before checking on any, she walked over to her fridge, and saw the number scrawled across a scrap of paper. Typing in the number, she sent off a text to Luna, “Coffee after shift?”

Her reply was swift and succinct, “Shft all over plc this wk.”

“Dinner?”

“Mday get off at 8.”

“My Place?”

“kk.”

Smiling, Chloe worked her way through the text messages and voice mail and then made her way to call them back. Caro picked up, “How was it?”

“Better than expected. She just left.”

“Oh. That is exceptionally good.” Caro said, “When are you seeing her?”

“Monday night,” Chloe dropped her voice, concern filtering through, “but she kind of left strangely.”

“It was unexpectedly quick,” Caro said simply.

“Yes. I suppose, but it feels excruciatingly slow,” Chloe sighed, “I need to shower and sleep.”

“Probably,” Caro laughed, “Bye.”

***

Luna walked into their favourite diner closest to home, Sahntyna and swept her eyes around. The noisy chatter jarring after the silence of Chloe’s. Galla is slouched in a booth, her hands greasy with salted cheesy bread, while Kai ate his thick shake with a spoon. Luna shuffled out of her jacket and slid into the opposite side of the booth to Galla, shoving Kai over.

Sahntyna is in a converted old building that once had been a grand cinema before fading in the void of television and home entertainment, before becoming a roller disco slash bar. Owner Sahntyna made no effort to renovate and instead left the original pastel pallet, neon vinyl booths with perspex plastic tables rimmed in high-vis silver. This neon disco light sign still bolted to the red brick back wall. The wait staff suited the decor, hired from their faded lives left dimmed by the shifting reality around them.

“Hello Lover girl…”

“Shut up,” Luna rolled her eyes as she grinned, ripping a mouthful of bread off and shoving it past her teeth, “I’m starving. Have you ordered?”

“Of course, the usual,” Galla laughingly responded, “So, stories to tell…”

“Stop smirking like that, G. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Liar, don’t even pretend,” Galla shaking her finger at Luna in mock anger, “I know there’s something.”

“Galla,” Luna smiled as her mind drifted to all the infinite moments she shared with Chloe, the singularity incited something inside of her. That small ache of loneliness lifting toward a feeling that she herself could not define.

“Pleeeeeeassssse.”

“So you want more than the car service, penthouse and the rooftop garden?”

“That’s so news twelve hours ago, I was barely awake still. It does sound special. How do you get a rooftop garden onto an apartment…but you know this isn’t what I meant.”

“Galla, I mean it, STOP,” Luna laughed as her face burned red.

“I knew it!” Galla exclaimed in delight, “She’s good. Come on, tell me.”

Their laughter interrupted by the food being delivered. After the waiter left, Luna though a mouthful eyed off Galla, “I know it was you. You told her I was dancing that first day. You gave her my shift details. You sneaky little…”

“No, not at all…..you two obviously had something. I just….simply….facilitated it. A little,” Galla said, still laughing. The friends ate, laughed, comforting each other as only old friends can.

“So. When are you seeing her again?” Kai asked.

“I’m not exactly sure…” Luna blushed at the immediate heckling from her friends, “I gave her my number. She texted after I left, and, ah dinner on Monday.”

“Yes. Well.”

“You seem flustered,” Kai said, waiting. He knew there is still something needing to be said.

“Its not like I do this often. She’s…intriguing. It felt weird, though. Leaving this afternoon. It’s like I had nothing to say, you know, after what happened,” Luna shrugged, “when we couldn’t shut up earlier.”

“If she calls?”

“I guess. I want to.”

“The seduction of the sea, all types of broken are beautiful, we are all bandits on land and pirates at sea, seeking the impossible with magic,” Kai smiled.

“Why didn’t you get her number?” Kai pushed against her, mocking her.

“Because…” Luna thumped him, “…I gave her mine. I’ve it now she texted.”

The friends ate, gently continuing to tease Luna before Galla said, “Come on, we’ve to get to work.”

Kai stayed sitting in the booth, waving at Galla and Luna as pulling their coats on, “I’m meeting a newbie here…taking him to work.”

“Bye,” Luna said as they slipped out.

“What’s wrong?” Galla asked, walking out of Sahntyna and moving toward the monorail.

“It feels sudden. Too fast, like I can’t catch my breath,” Luna’s frown turned into a smile, hinting at the edge of her face, “but then it feels like I want her beyond measure, like I’ve known her before. I don’t know how else to put it.”

“Look at this in context, Luna, isn’t this how most things start, attraction? And a date? It went far beyond kissing from your reaction and you’ll be seeing her again?”

“Of course. I’m exceptionally interested in kissing her in any, every conceivable context. I want to consume her…” Luna smiled, “even as I want to run away from her…”

“Seriously, in context? That’s fabulous…” Galla couldn’t contain her laughter as Luna’s face flushed, “…But, also, tell her you want to go slower if you need to.”

“Her lips are unfathomably delicious,” Luna sighed, “…she tastes of coffee, cinnamon and lipstick, no matter the time. It’s intoxicating, and of course you would say it’s fabulous, traitor who set this up…”

“…says the friend who wants it to continue.”

“Where is she taking you?” Galla asked, “Next date?”

“She is cooking me dinner,” Luna twisted in her jacket.

“At the penthouse?”

“Yes. Where else would she cook for me?”

“So, you’re braving another adventure at her apartment? Don’t look so terrified,” Galla pulled her backpack off.

“She confuses me,” Luna, characteristically, scrunched up her nose, “I’m scared, G. Really, I don’t understand why one small, quiet, simple meeting has led to this.”

“It’s not unheard of, you know, of people having an immediate connection. Rare, but it happens,” Galla snorted, “And no, she doesn’t. You do that all by yourself. Truth? Don’t avoid this, even if your scared.”

“I…” Luna couldn’t reply. She didn’t really need to. Galla always knew, so she changed her tactic, “my life is too full.”

“No. Its not,” Galla sighed, “You made it full.”

“Kai…” she couldn’t give up against Galla aggressively calling her out.

“Who disregards you entirely. He only wants you when its convenience. You know he uses everything he can to get his own damn way. You let him. You hide behind him as much as he uses you,” brutality is the only route left for Galla, continues in spite of Luna wincing, “You’re scared, but its not okay to acquiesce to it.”

“Maybe.” Luna hesitates, “possibly.”

“You need to get the fuck over it,” Galla hugged her, “do not under any circumstances cancel your date.”

“I know, I know,” Luna raised her hands in submission, Galla would always call her out.

“Good. Unique is what you are. Right after shift?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

“Don’t look so smug…” Luna slapped Galla across her shoulder.

“I can’t help it.”

“Thanks,” Luna shifted into her jacket and shifting her backpack.

***

Chloe stood at her bedroom windows, looking out on the bright artificial lights of the city, dulling the clarity of the stars. It is closer to one than midnight. Chloe felt absence, her apartment empty without Luna already, far too silent and her bed too cold. Chloe never slept well, yet now held the absence of Luna far to close to let it go. The city always the shield she could hide behind, now it reflected her loneliness.

Her life had been overtaken by her neurosurgical career. She consulted on many unique, and high profile cases by which she built a formidable reputation. Caro, Quin and Arlo are her respite from this world refusing to sleep, the cottage at Lake St. Clair her enclave of quiet. Lake St. Clair is where she kept her sacred self, how she sustained herself, yet now that shimmered to encompass this unexpected delight.

She remained at once disconnected and connected, surrounded and isolated. She fondled the phone in her hand, unsure of her wanting to call the three out at the cottage. It jittered in her hand, causing her to jump, “Hello?”

“What is wrong? We can hear you from here…” Caro’s warm voice dripped down the phone, history from the summer her mother brought her back from travelling the country after graduation bouncing between them.

Caro had convinced Chloe to visit Quin away from the cities distractions before returning to university. Quin was already working in an internship with one of the cities largest architectural firms in the lakes district satellite office, and in her spare time, travelled around the villages until she stumbled across the abandoned tragedy that transformed their lives. She showed Chloe and Caro that summer visit, the teaming life in the marshlands, the sleepy villages and blue-green water flowing between the lakes and subsidiaries.

“Thinking of her.”

“I thought you said it went well?” Arlo hummed. All four melting together, supplying each other courage, teaching her family did not mean blood, but choice, “And that you’ll be seeing her very soon?”

“I did, and I will,” Chloe answered, not having to say that Luna held for her a future she could not name yet desired. Chloe considered her options to combat the flurry of emotions she was currently feeling, and the overwhelming fantasy one was that involved her wanting. Luna here all of the time, wanted to fill her life with the future they could have.

Chloe remembered herself, rebellious and still only nineteen, in the in-between of her life and under the spell of her affair with Caro, testing her new recklessness by purchasing the Manor House that Quin may have discovered yet they all fell in love with. They felt the brokenness of it, the desiccation of the Attic open to the sky, the cracked and broken plaster crumbling from the internal stone, the wet, damp, flooded basement. Even the land bullied, overgrown and abandoned, a drifted sense of neglect. They felt of themselves all of these things, and this is where they belonged.

“So what’s the problem?” Quin sighed into the conversation. Quin felt beyond anything else she was right where she should be as she finally found a place where the trilogy of heartbeats united in bliss. She desired for Chloe to feel the same perfection, to hear the honey of her own voice.

Quin began design renovations back when she moved to the closest village with a B&B, Kaxis Wood, a half hour from the infant row of houses on the way to the manor, Millers Inn, which serviced the silent and peaceful hiking paths. They visited every day, feeling more themselves there than at any other time. The quiet rush of passion between Caro and Luna waned back to friendship over the summer at the lakes, but always, the Manor remained.

“The waiting and the not knowing,” Chloe quiet, “if she has fallen as quickly as me.”

“What makes you think she hasn’t?”

“I texted her to confirm when we could see each other again and she seemed reticent…I don’t know.”

“She was reticent over text?” Caro asked.

“Yes…” Chloe shrugged to herself, “I sound insane, I know I don’t know her.”

“Chloe, calm down. You’ve had one week of being delightfully sweet and one ultra intense date and you will make something spectacular for dinner,” Quin said.

“Chloe,” Caro’s voice gentle, “Seriously, relax. Take it one date at a time. Or, you know, continue to date…”

“Relax? What does that mean?” Chloe appreciated the non-judgement in their voices at the lunacy of her behaviour.

“It means she is coming to dinner.”

“True,” Chloe sighed, “thanks.”

***

Luna finished her shift with Galla and walking out at just past eight, her nerves sparking.

Galla paused as they walked out just past eight, “How are you getting there?”

“Ferry across Violet,” knowing the river would be dark under the night sky.

“Okay. See you tomorrow?”

“I switched my shift with Estelle…I’ve two days off…”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Galla smiling wirely.

“Yeah, cause I didn’t want that look…or to have to put up with your shit…”

“You’re just delaying the inevitable…” Galla smiled wickedly, walking off towards the monorail, leaving Luna walked in the opposite direction, making her way to the ferry and across the river. She walked quickly through the streets of Briar District and before loosing her courage, past the doors of the Ellysion, overlooking the river.

The desk clerk smiled as she walked up, breath ragged and uneven, “Go on up, Miss Sky.”

“Thank you.”

Luna walked to the elevator bank as the desk clerk picked up the phone. Her mind spiralled into everything she hated about herself — she lived in a minuscule apartment in a slum-adjacent suburb because she is not worthy of anything better. What did Chloe want with her? Charity case?

Luna, overwhelmed, attempted to calm herself down, yet her heartbeat rapidly continued, making it worse. She hit the penthouse button and the elevator smoothly hushed upwards. As the elevator door opened into Chloe’s ante-room, her chest is constricted against her rapid heartbeat. Chloe opened her door, with her smile quickly falling to growing concern at the sight of Luna’s face stumbling out of the elevator, reflecting her spiral out of control.

“Can…Can…I use your…bathroom,” Luna stammered.

Chloe stood still about a meter in front of her, opening her arms, respecting her personal space, while inviting her saying softly, “Unless you would rather come here?”

Luna stood, swaying on her feet, her breath jagged, wary.

Chloe simply waited, softly smiling, adding, “for as long or as little as you decide.”

Luna, feeling dizzy and confused, sensed Chloe recognised and understood the panicky fear creeping indescribably through her body. Luna took one step and felt her knees wobble. She paused, wanting desperately for her heartbeat to come back inside her body. She took another step, willing her eyes to focus. One more step and she would be in Chloe’s grasp. She took another step before stumbling the rest of the way into Chloe, who wrapped Luna inside of her arms. Luna’s breath still ragged, her heart beating out against her rib-cage, bruising her soul from the inside.

Chloe strengthened the hug and whispered, “I have you.”

Luna lost time, standing there forever waiting for her heartbeat to receded to a normal rhythm. Chloe made no indication she had anything but patience, allowed her the time she needed. Luna calmed enough to risk unassisted standing and withdrew slightly, mortified she had worked herself into such a state as to panic the moment she walked in.

Chloe offered her hand to Luna and waited patiently while she hesitated, smiled and took it. Gently, Chloe led Luna out of the ante-room and into the living room, encouraging her to sit on the lounge. Walking to the kitchen, she brought back a glass of water and placed it before Luna before she sat down next to her.

“I’m sorry,” Luna’s said, looking at the floor.

“There’s no need to be.”

“Really. I am.” Luna lifted her eyes to Chloe’s, holding her gaze.

“Apologies are unnecessary. Our last date was rather intense and quick,” Chloe smiled, “and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Luna leaned over and drank half of her water. Unsure of what to say or how to explain the unexplainable, she is surprised when she hears herself say, “I want to be here. Even if I am uncomfortable.”

Chloe broke into a smile making Luna flush, “I’m glad you want to be here. I want you to be here. When you are ready, we can talk about what makes you uncomfortable. Would you like to eat?”

“It smells divine.”

“I take that as a yes,” Chloe stood to served dinner, plating it expertly and delivering it to mahogany polished wood table. Luna stood to help her, however Chloe turned and said, “No, no. Sit down.”

Luna picked a chair at the square table, two places set perfectly next to each other. It is intimate, and she smiled at the considerate gesture. Their second date becoming as unique as their first, in spite of her panicked behaviour. Chloe poured wine into their glasses and sat beside Luna, “I hope you like it.”

Luna tenderly replied, “Thank you.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet.”

“That’s not really the point. I’m thanking for you for the consideration and effort.”

They ate dinner, chatting about general loves — music, authors, movies. Eventually, sated by desert, Chloe refilled their glasses, held her free hand out to Luna, who graciously reached for the warm touch. Chloe led them up to the rooftop to lay on the grass and stare at the sky. Their voices, low, intertwined around each others, engaged in enticing conversations until they fell asleep in the deep, quiet hours of the morning, curled into each other until the sun crystallised over the sky causing them to shiver against the cold light.

“Its still early,” Chloe pushed herself up after disentangling, still mostly asleep, “Come. Lets go to bed.”

She stood to pull Luna up, linking their fingers and stumbled delicately down the stairs and into Chloe’s bedroom, falling into bed and curling around each other again to sink back into a deep sleep. Hours later, still nestled in Luna’s embrace, Chloe woke slowly, to see her angelic face, eyes fluttering with slowly dawning consciousness.

“Good morning.”

“Hi,” Luna leaned the few inches and grazed her lips over Chloe’s. As she leaned back, Chloe followed, smoothing her lips against Luna’s. Both smiled, infamous shyness sticking them both.

“Shower?”

“Yes, I think so,” Luna sat up, realising they are still wearing the clothes from yesterday.

“You can borrow something,” Chloe pushed off the covers, stood and led Luna her en-suite, which is bigger than Luna’s entire flat, the shower along one side big enough for six.

Chloe pushed temperature buttons on a panel next to the shower until water began to fall from the ceiling within. Luna, tugging out of her clothing, gasped. Chloe flushed as she quickly undressed. Her bathroom is ostentatious, a luxury she is luckily able to customise. Moving silently into the shower together, their bodies easily warming together under the hot water.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“Why? There is no need to be. Stop apologising.”

“People often panic your home?”

“You’re not people,” Chloe moved up to Luna, looking her directly in the eye to hold her there, “You’re definitively not people.”

Luna trembled as Chloe pulled her into a hug. Standing still for several minutes, Luna relaxing against Chloe’s naked body before shifting ever so slightly and whispering into Chloe’s ear, “You’re definitively not people, either. You’re unexpected.”

“Is that what happened last night?”

“Yes. I wasn’t expecting…any of this.”

“Neither was I, but this week’s been…I like you.”

“I. Like. You.” Luna’s lips whispered against Chloe’s ear, inciting a familiar warming throb.

Still, she waited for Luna, understood the hesitation and unfamiliarity. Luna ran her tongue down Chloe’s jawline before flicking her eyes to meet Chloe’s briefly before pushing their lips together.

Water dripping down their faces, Chloe moved to deepen their kiss, inadvertently snorting water up her nose. Giggling softly, she drew back from Luna, who took the invitation to continue down to the pulse point in her neck, drifting down to crest of her breasts, sucking the nipple lightly, releasing it under her teeth. Chloe groaned slightly as Luna whispered her lips down her stomach and along the ridge of her pubic bone before releasing herself against Chloe’s clit, bracing her with a leg over her shoulder. The hard matting was tickling her knees as she reached under the leg secured over her shoulder and thrust three fingers in just as she popped Chloe’s clit out of her mouth.

Chloe convulsed over the top of her, as Luna devoured her thick fluid while moving her fingers faster, her teeth brushing against the swollen nub, Chloe’s chest hitching as she moaned, “don’t stop…please…”

She felt Chloe’s fingers grip her head as suddenly her body tightened for the second time and Luna stilled her fingers movement, removing them to brace the body above her, her other hand relaxing the leg draped over her shoulder down and entangling hands within Chloe’s as she came fabulously above her. Luna moved to encircle Chloe’s body still cresting from her release. The water flowed over them as Chloe gradually started breathing regularly again.

Luna released her supportive hold and turned Chloe around, grabbing the body wash, “Let’s finish this shower, yes?”

Chloe numbly nodded, relaxing under Luna’s hands extending around her, slippery bubbles lathering her body, responding to her sweet affections. This is her new favourite activity, and she wanted to revisit it as often as possible. As they stood from the shower, Chloe reached over to hand her a towel. Luna giggled when Chloe handed her a fluffy dressing gown, as she finished drying herself.

“Is this what you meant by clothes?”

“Yes,” Chloe leaned in, tugging Luna’s lips in with her own, “its perfectly adequate.”

“For what?” Luna hummed, leaning into Chloe.

“Taking off later,” kiss, “would you like,” kiss, “something to eat?”

“Hmmmm,” Luna pulled the fluffiness around her, “I’m hungry.”

Walking to the kitchen, Chloe moved to the cavernous fridge, pulling eggs and cream out, “Scrambled?”

“Please.”

They spent the rest of the day between the bed and the shower.

LUNA DE LA SKY

I BEGINNING

Luna arrived at work in the naked light, alone with the rising sun as it struggled against fog, heavy settled over the city. Night was transitioning into day, yet clung as if hangover, holding the daylight fuzzy and unfocused. Luna embraced this dynamic space and after stubbing out her cigarette, entered her four digit pin and pushed the door open as the light buzzed green from red.

She walked through blindingly white hallways to create a lonely echo to reach the staff lounge, where she dumped her bag and heavy coat into her locker. She took her lighter jacket as she walked back outside, slipping through several service alley’s to reach a hidden lane way café.

***

Galla hated early morning, the sliver of sky from her window stippled sand paper orange, a delirium after effect from the darkness. She lived in a loft, the only delineation from the single room the bathroom she stumbled into. She owned this little place in a thirty story complex, where the elevators often more broken than not, and the stairs smelt of sweat, urine, mould and fungi. The mess of streets making her suburb, Zyvah District, are old, dark and broke. The people and buildings refracted pieces of each other, much like everything else. Yet this place is her own and she coveted it.

Galla showered and dressed, stomped the three levels to ground and out to the filtered daylight. It is winter and the fresh overnight snow already grey and slushy. The monorail station was three blocks over and three blocks beyond that Luna and Kai’s place. The station is cramped, full of dead eyes and monotone faces looking at pulsing screens, manicured hands caressing bleak information.

Galla fumbled for her phone and texted Luna, misremembering where they are meeting as more often they were together than not. The monorail carriage squealed to a stop against cold, abrasive metal. Luna texted she would bring breakfast and Ash’s sludge thick coffee in to work.

***

“How are you baby girl?” a voice called as Luna walked through the open space left by the raised roller doors rusted into blood flecked immobility, from the counter stretched wide across the back wall.

Jamere, knowing Luna’s order, passed it to the kitchen before bringing pot brewed herb coffee and a glass of ice over to the long mahogany counter bar throwing warmth across the back length of the garage. Luna threw her jacket behind the end chair she climbed into and leaned back into the chilled brick wall.

“Tired,” smiling weakly before sipping a mouthful of thick hot coffee poured over ice and as steam spiralled out into her eyes, she scanned the few bereft customers. The old building containing Ash’s once had been on a main street and hosted many diverse businesses before it became mazed within back city alleyways, to evolved into an insiders secret. The early morning atmosphere is placid; after the night drunks, yet before the rushed business people lacking the skills to manage life or its time. This is Luna’s favourite time, referred her solitude before the chaos of the day. She turned to Jamere and commented, “unusually quiet.”

“Yes, you’ve always had great timing,” Jamere smiled and shrugged, understanding Luna as she had been a regular for most of the five years she had spent in this city. They both relished the red brick, dirtied by its own history and the ebb and flow suited them both, where the monsters of the darkness played against the raptured sins of a coffee soaked daylight.

“I guess,” Luna said, mimicking Jamere’s action, aching for a life she could not describe. She felt lost, the fractured seat of her soul missing as long as she could remember. This sense of longing for an unknown missing element corrupted everything from her childhood to now, fault lines scorching her body.

“Luna,” Jamere’s concern filtered through her intonation, floating across the bar to enclosing around Luna’s isolation, a hug wrapped within her voice.

“Really, Jamere,” Luna raises her eyes to meet Jamere’s, “I’m good.”

“Okay,” Jamere, knowing not too push to hard. She observed a lot of human behaviour since inheriting the building from her mother, Ash, a cantankerous old mechanic who inherited it from her own father, “How’s Kai?”

“The usual. Nights at Marlene’s, as always. He’ll probably be in after his shift,” Luna shrugged.

“Most likely,” Jamere smiled, masking the concern at Luna’s seeming indifference to her twin.

Jamere knew them as young teenagers, two halves of the same old soul, each mirroring the movements of the other, perfect mimics in intense and uncanny ways, only ever together in those early years. In spite of the odd location Ash’s attracted a grifter element with customers and the twenty-four hour operations catered to cross-cultural elements rarely seen in many other places.

The kitchen bell rang out and Jamere pulled away to retrieve a plate laden with Luna’s breakfast and laid it in front of her, “You’ve been at Bravo house this week?”

“Thanks,” Luna pulled herself off of the wall to shift closer to the plate, “yes, doing some of the supply runs, book transfer’s and stuff. I think Ivie has me at the apartments this week. When are the plans for Smash?”

“Four weeks from this Saturday is the meet and greet for new volunteers, at about nine-thirty,” Jamere said, “this year you’ll be assisting in planning the charity gala, part of our executive committee and unfortunately this may cut into your hours at emergency shelters.”

“Okay. What am I to be doing?” a small smile crept onto Luna’s face, “its on Ivie’s calendar?”

“Of course it is,” Jamere smiled as she turned towards the slow trickle of customers sleepily stumbling up to the counter for orders strong enough to help them assimilate into the day, relieved Luna had questioned what she would be doing rather than the significant change of volunteer status. She had been doing it for so long, her experience is invaluable to SPW, “and I’ll tell you in four weeks.”

Luna began her breakfast, methodically working her way anti-clockwise on a square plate. As a take-away breakfast slid next to Luna, she nodded her thanks. When finished, Luna pulled her jacket back on her small frame, waved at Jamere and escaped back to the alleyways, the coded door and echoing hallways.

***

Galla walked into the basement meeting room in the Pacer Complex, the seven story, 24 hour entertainment megastore stretching above her, where the other forty-three people commencing their shift gathered. She reached over as Luna walked into the staff room, grasping at the takeaway bag, mumbling thanks as she inhaled the coffee.

“You could at least meet me one morning,” Luna smiled, sitting next to Galla.

“You know the rules. Not unless we’ve left from night shift. You may not sleep, but I love mine.”

“Slacker,” snorted Luna, “and I love sleep. We just don’t get along especially well.”

“Shut up,” got lost as Galla started eating.

The rest of the assembled staff were busy adjusting the base feedback on their headsets, which allowed all of them to maintain permanent contact with Ivie, as the manager strolled in, adjusting the earpiece of her headset while reading the live digital array fed directly from Ivie to her tablet.

“Morning Team. Luna and Galla, I need you both in Classical. Claudia and Xaiden are unable to attend until the midday shift. Tanikaa, our guest band for the second floor have cancelled, and the house band is currently on tour and yet to be permanently replaced. Any volunteers?”

Staff usually worked on a specific level, knowledge and passion a major selling point of Pacer. Luna and Galla preferred to work on the second level, alternative music, as opposed to popular music on the ground floor. They are often stranded on three as both trained in classical music. On exceptionally rare occasions, they were on level four, but country and international music not of particular interest to them. Both refused to work in children’s entertainment on five or with DVDs on six, neither catering for their musical talents.

“We will,” Calais and Fletcher spoke, both instantly attentive. Staff are performers, musicians, dancers and are required to perform independently in any of these capacities or to support guest performers.

“Band name?”

Calais and Fletcher are like most of the staff, taking this job to meet other musicians and fill missing band positions. Many bands formed and dissolved within the walls of Pacer, which had a history of creating successful bands, coveting that Pacer has the resources to create their careers.

Even if they failed, missed the success juggernaut, Pacer would keep them for itself, the convenience of an endless talent pool and would use their talent to mentor younger, developing musicians. Those who are good, or around long enough, to become house bands get automatic access to the recording opportunities Pacer provides. The complex evolved into this collective of artists and bands, producing and stocking all staff member albums.

Calais responded, “Spenal.”

“Okay. Can anyone help with drums?” moments pass before Ivie breaks over the speakers. Pacer is technologically advanced and all operational systems are controlled via Ivie, a fully integrated artificial intelligent program, “Bree Khiam.”

Bree, on her first shift and a recent percussionist graduate from the county’s elite music program at The Raptor City Academy of Performance Arts (RCAPA), looked up from her black and red fingernails at the disembodied voices announcement and said, “Okay?”

Ivie’s voice broke the silence in the rooms speakers with her calculated, balanced voice, “The classical act for the hummingbird just cancelled.”

The Manager looked over to Galla and Luna, “Can you two play the Hummingbird. Sanihda and Eviva can you do the dance set at nine on one?”

“Claudia and Xaiden are on at midday,” Galla asked, “Why don’t Xaidia play?”

“Claudia has tendinitis. Xaiden will wait until it’s healed. They’ve asked for a performance break so Claudia can seek treatment. Lane, are you sorted for seven?”

Level seven is the complexes most controversial. The age restricted adult entertainment have an exclusive team and specialised security measures because of the live performances. Pacer frequently is criticised for this level, however money is power and they effectively were able to deflect any negative press aimed at them. Lane, specialist manager for seven nodded, “All organised.”

All four nod their acknowledgement. After a few more negligible announcements, the team dispersed, Luna leaving with Galla for the third floor, “I don’t want to play today,” sticking out her tongue in mock petulance.

“Luna?” Bree called, as she exited the staff room behind them. Luna stopped, turned and waited for Bree to catch up, “sorry, What’s the Hummingbird?”

“The hummingbird hour is the time between twelve and three.”

“Why is it called that?”

“Mythology surrounding the name refers to two types of socialite women who spend the afternoon lunching and shopping. There’s the society kind, lives via inherited or married wealth, and the corporate kind, whose fought for their own independence their status is paramount to their own power. They both shop at lunch to appear important and time poor in a twenty four hour society. Its important to know the difference when you are dealing with them.”

“Um. Okay,” mumbled Bree, “and I heard you volunteer for Smash Punch?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I was thinking of helping,” Bree looked at Luna, moving from foot to foot in her nervousness.

“There’s a meet and greet in four weeks from Saturday, at nine thirty. I’ll introduce you to Jamere, if you would like to come. If you do volunteer remember to tell Ivie, she can assist with your shift and volunteering schedule.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Bree smiled, shuffled her feet before shrugging and continued up to the floors above as Luna turned back to Galla.

“Do we know her?” Galla looked after Bree as she walked off.

“I don’t think so,” Luna frowned, remembered themselves when they first started at Pacer, the two of them together and requested the same shifts, “It’s her first day.”

“She seems to know you…”

Ivie spoke over their headsets, “Upon graduation she recorded her original composition with Pacer Music Studios and attended an audition with Raptor City Philharmonic Orchestra her parents organised.”

“Eh,” Luna shrugged, not really caring that Pacer stocked and published all RCAPA music student’s graduation compositions, but remembering that only the top three percent of RCAPA undergraduate music students were automatically offered an opportunity to record their compositions on the Pacer label, in addition too all Honours and Masters students, “how did she fail, Ivie? She would have been top three…”

“Nerves?” Ivie offered, “but she uniquely filled the only requirement of all musicians and producers utilised in the recording are themselves students by being the only player, even though she could have used the RCAPA student philharmonic.”

“Okay Ivie,” Luna shrugged, loosing interest as they began their ascent, “what if we play living composers?”

Galla pulled a face, pleased that while on the third flood shifts together, they could experiment against each other with defiant disregard for the hummingbird fanatics, and said, “What if we played Gothic chamber music?”

Luna laughed, comforted by her years old friend, whose violin and fondness for dead composers a connection before anything else, bonding deeply forged scars twisted in iron onto their flesh. The classical floor is the hardest to play, as the mornings are quiet and often sets were often ignored, while the afternoon sets attracted fanatics critical of any interpretation beyond their own favourites. Luna, classically trained in piano, flute, violin and cello and Galla in piano, violin and sitar, both knew that in spite of their preference for working in alternative, their talent left both of them the most obvious replacements on classical.

“We could ask for permanent night shift?” Galla suggested, begrudging that staff shifts spanned across six rotating times. Both preferred either of the two night shifts, or the late afternoon shift extending into night as it gave them more creative flexibility, interesting customers and, rarely, the classical floor.

“We could both play an Owling for once,” Luna said, referring to the infamous early morning sessions that happened anywhere between midnight and four whenever the will took the people present, where staff and customers could play without restriction or restraint.

Owling Sessions created a dedicated, cultish following and members of this group tattooed a local masked owl upon the base of their skulls. Both Luna and Galla had this tattoo inked upon themselves and in many ways founded this symbol of the group. Luna revealed in the freedom of this melding of talents, experimental delineation lost within the gaps of time, allowing both of them to fold the gnarled spaces within their soul, fading away the hollows and cracks. For Luna, the leaderless melting of music energised by the bodies of unhampered participants, flowed her away from the trauma of their past and allowed them, even if momentarily, to forget the sharp edges of their present.

This shift, this day, these friends would be on until three, and they were already exhausted at the unexpected and additional performances over the last two hours of their shift. Walking onto the floor, waving at Kali and Lethe restocking shelves, Luna smiled at Galla, adding, “Okay. But the least we could do is mix fusion Jazz with Gothic Chamber.”

“Absolutely,” Galla snickered, walking up to the café, empty of customers, over to Estella and Walter, “slacking off were we?”

“Its too stressful to work when its this busy,” Estella said, indicating the lack of customers with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“I guess,” Galla said before ordering coffee and sitting down.

“Why are you two here?”

“Claudia and Xaiden changed to the midday shift,” Galla said.

“Whose playing?”

“No idea this morning. We’ve thirteen and fourteen.”

***

Chloe stood in her ninth floor office suite in the neurological unit of Mathilde Avenue Research Hospital (MARH), looking over Violet River. The outer office contained her secretary, an efficient woman permanently running interference, as her hours were wayward and non-standard. She had her office at home, preferred it, but presence at the hospital usually mandatory in her position. Still, she demanded her appointments be clustered in the morning so that her afternoons were ripe for escape. Today she could find the elusive Beethoven she is seeking.

***

The shift warped around them, the climate controlled environment encapsulating time so effectively they barely noticed it was midday until Claudia and Xaiden walked onto the floor.

“Hi. Glad you’re finally here,” Galla said, noticing Claudia’s strapped hand, “Ss Xaidia will be playing?”

“Thanks Galla,” Xaiden laughed, “compassionate to the end.”

Luna feigned innocence, “But Claudia, whatever is that bandage!”

“Its seriously so annoying. We had to cancel Eloise.”

“You usually play there?”

Claudia see-sawed her non bandaged hand, “Kind of. We’ve played private events there, and they’ve very slowly started giving us gigs,” she raised her bandaged wrist, “this may lose it.”

“We’ve other things going on” Xaiden shrugged “the Eloise is a nice gig, though…”

“You love it more than me. All of those well dressed ladies…”

All laughing, Luna picked up her coffee from behind the counter, “We’re going for lunch.”

***

Chloe walked onto cavernous classical floor, assaulted by colour the walls covered in band and music paraphernalia. A pianist played as she scanned the floor, over the thirtyish people wondering and a few scattered throughout the chairs in the café. Chloe saw a slight girl with spiky hair fiddling with the headset attached to her ear. From her crown, spirals of deep royal purple and glowing pink circled her head, creating a halo of colour under the fluorescents. Chloe walked over, desiring to quickly leave this bastion of overwhelming consumerism.

***

Luna was pressing buttons on her apparently malfunctioning headset, repeating, “Ivie,” into the slimline mike jutting along her jaw, as Chloe walked up and she turned at the gentle tap on her shoulder, meeting a set of startling brown eyes, liquid chocolate over ice that she stumbled across and slid into oblivion.

“I’m sorry to startle you,” the customers voice, throaty and deep, seared across Luna.

Luna recovered enough to smile subtly as she attempted to pitch her voice as evenly as she was not, “How can I assist you?”

“I’m looking for a March nineteen twenty-three Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra recording of Beethoven’s Symphony number five, conducted by Wilhelm Furtwangler on vinyl,” a gentle pause as she swallowed, her face on fire, then as if an explanation, “I heard it at a party.”

“Sure,” Luna said, thankful for the distraction. The customer is beautiful, standing powerfully before her. She holds herself perfectly, charmingly, beautifully, brilliantly and all of this is focused directly on her. Every single other sensation other than the one she is presented with overwhelm her, as of she belonged in the vacuum.

“Ivie,” into her crackling and distorted headset. Ivie, a vast digital management system, controlled life inside the Pacer bubble.

“Luna,” Ivie’s voice finally distorted back.

“Nineteen twenty-three BPO Beethoven five,” Luna asked, concisely pitching her voice over her rapid fire heartbeat.

“Proceed….” kicked over her headset before it acquiesced to crackled distortion.

Luna looked apologetically at her customer, said, “I’m sorry. Let me take you to the Beethoven section.”

The classic corporate hummingbird, with her tailored suit, manicured nails and echoed, clipped footfalls, followed Luna’s lead. The crackling dulled enough for Ivie’s hard edged voice to break through, “I-thirteen, R-three, T-two, V-four.”

“Thanks,” Luna responded, grateful for Ivie delivering immediate customer service queries, even with her dodgy headset. Luna pulled out the fourth Vinyl in the second tier of the third row, aisle thirteen and handed it to the hummingbird and pitched her voice low, “Is this what you are looking for?”

She perused it with quick efficiently, “Yes,” as she looked up to Luna, “you do not look like the others on this level.”

A statement, definitive, not a question. Luna shrugged, edgy at the way she was reacting to the customer in front of her, pushing some rogue pink hair out of her eye, “I’m not always on this level. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“How does it not bleed?” She indicated Luna’s hair, “and you’ve specific knowledge for multiple floors?”

“The experience of my hairdresser,” as she smiled for the first time that day, repeating, “and yes, this floor, pop and alternative. Is that all you need today?”

“That’s quite an eclectic mix. Yes, thank you, this is what I wanted,” she extended her hand, fine fingers resting together, “Chloe.”

“Luna,” smiled again as she shook the dry, manicured hands, feeling a subtle jolt transmitted through their hands as their eyes connected. Luna’s headset crackled, creating a piercing whine in Luna’s ear. She winced, breaking eye contact, pulling the ear piece out and said, “I can walk you to the teller.”

“No need. Is something wrong?” Chloe noticed details, weighing the odds of any situation with precision yet felt unsettled by Luna’s deep dragon green eye’s, blazing fire at the edges. She felt the loss of those eyes whilst observing both the wince and extradition of earpiece.

“No,” Luna smiled, an unusual habit but one she is unable to resist and starting towards the service counter, she shrugged and admitted, “my headset is playing up.”

“Your headset?” Chloe asked, following the fascinating girl again.

“The headset…is feeding back is all. I’ll need to change it.”

“Thank you for your help,” Chloe’s voice deep and smoky, drifting down Luna’s spine.

“You’re welcome,” Luna replied, approaching the service counter, “this is Galla.”

“Thank You,” Chloe turned towards Galla.

Luna mouthed “Hive” at Galla pointing between lifts and her dangling earpiece. Galla nodded in return as she turned to smile at Chloe, extending her hand towards the record. Luna backed away and returned to the administration basement to visit Archer. She thought about Chloe on the way down, the caress of her smile, the way the suit shifted with her, the sway of her hips within her stride. Warmth spread through Luna as she walked into the Hive.

“My Headset isn’t working.”

“I know. Here’s the replacement. I also need you on level one, dancing to Milhra,” Archer looking up from the codes scrolling over her monitor at Luna.

“With who?” Luna unstrung the earpiece through her shirt as she unclipped the power pack attached to her belt, “and I’m meant to be playing on three.”

“Galla can handle three, and Decter Mesa, and can you two stay late?” Archer asked, “we haven’t found replacements for the four who called in sick yet.”

“Archer, he can’t dance,” Luna replied as all of the sweetness flowing through her body twisted cold. She pushed the new earpiece into the power pack.

“He’s all we can spare. Kali is needed on four,” Archer looked apologetic.

“When…” Luna asked, defeated, beginning to string the cord through under her shirt and replaced the earpiece where it belonged, “and yeah, we can stay.”

“Fifteen minutes, and thanks.”

“Lucky you’re awesome,” Luna sighed, walking back out to the lifts and returning to classical to tell Galla of their extended hours.

Exiting the lifts to walk out on to the floor, she is startled by a tranquil voice, “Hello.”

Luna turned towards the voice, hope sparking at the rusty intonation, “Chloe?”

“Galla said you were dancing shortly.”

Luna smiled at the unequivocal statement. Her jazz timbered voice left no other interpretation as a glow flushed over Luna’s face. Chloe’s voice is ferocious, sanguine, intelligent, sounding of hard edged black coffee and measured, calculated, barbed wire dipped in chocolate as she spoke again, “I decided to stay and see you dance.”

Luna nodded, curious, “On level one, the lowest café tier, back corner table, has the best view.”

A simple nod, and Chloe turned upon her knife point stiletto and walked towards the lifts. Luna walked over to the counters, where only Laeir was behind the desk, asking, “Galla?”

He shook his head, smiling wickedly, “Break.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Luna walked back, tracing her steps to the lifts and down to level one. It didn’t matter the band playing, as Luna’s mind drifted back to the curve of Chloe’s voice. As she walked to the floor, she scanned the café and found Chloe sitting where she had suggested. Luna began trembling as her mind free fell as her desire spooling, an effect no one had on her before.

Chloe watched the enticement walk out onto the floor, intrigued by her delicate paleness. She felt this spark, enticed by this tendril of intuition radiating out towards this girl. She often felt this at work, during the delicate surgery she performed but never felt it directed towards an actual person. Chloe’s obsessive qualities focused relentlessly and served her well in her career, but she is absolutely unprepared for this incursion into her personal life.

Chloe sat in the corner of the café, staying longer than necessary to watch the girl, enthralled. Chloe felt this connection immediately, yet held no idea what it meant. Pacer is, as usual, busy and the performance barely noticed outside of the café. Chloe could not remove her eyes from the movement, Luna preternaturally attuned to the music, her attention stealing all that Chloe had. Nothing had broken through to her like this in years. Luna felt Chloe before she saw her as her dance set finished and as she walked toward the break room. Chloe smiled at her, buttoning her jacket, but did not say a word, stealing Luna’s breath as she went.

Luna returned to level three after a fifteen minute break, and wandered over to Galla, shifting stock onto shelves from a trolley beside her.

“Miss,” Luna spoke harsh and guttural.

Galla jumped and turned before she giggled, “Luna!”

“What’s with telling the hummingbird?” Luna raised her eyebrows in mock anger, her secret pleasure still tingling.

“Not really. Archer paged you, I responded your headset was down and you were on your way. She told me you’d be dancing.”

“Uh, so that would still’ve been headset only?”

“Luna,” Galla smiled, both breaking out laughing before continuing, “I told Laeir, as it was told to me directly.”

Luna smiled as she picked up a group of Chopin books before responding, “Sure, Galla, sure…”

“You’d this look your face,” Galla continued, baiting Luna, “exactly like that one you’ve now…”

“Shut up G. Kai and I are going to Harper’s. You coming?”

“Evasive little Princess, aren’t we. Just giving you a hard time,” Galla, holding up her hands in submission, “yeah. What’s playing? Who’s playing?”

“Not sure. We’re getting food before Kai has to work, but he’s shifted to the late start, so Harper’s came up. And we’re now working late.”

“He won’t care I’m coming.”

“I know. That’s why I said,” Luna laughed, comfortable with the lightness of the afternoon, and the prospect of finally being able to catch up with her twin. In spite of living together, shift work had kept them apart for over a week. For the few hours, they idly re-shelved merchandise, joking about the dodgy dancing of Decter Mesa.

Luna and Galla pulled off the last music performance and made their way to the basement staff area, Luna grabbed her bag from her locker and took out her mobile, looking at the messages from Kai, relaying it to Galla, and from there they walked out of the staff entrance, walking further into the alleyways to avoid the main streets.

“Kai said he’ll meet us there.”

“Okay,” Galla pulled her backpack on over her winter coat, “at least we’re out earlier than expected.”

“Yes,” Luna snorted, early for the night shift. Ready?”

“Yep,” as the afternoon sun hit them, gloomy in an overcast sky, on their way to the monorail.

Luna asked “Do you…never mind…”

“What?” Galla, whose trauma coiled around her core and mutated with her into adulthood, heard the tone splinting into Luna’s voice.

“Nothing,” Luna sighed, unable to articulate the vacancy settled within her, an absence, longing for what she couldn’t seem to say.

“Existential crisis?” Galla, abandoned well before she even lived, adopted yet orphaned by five, understood how ill-fated and corrupt luck is, branded by blindness in her left eye and three skull deep lacerations from forehead to chin because of it. Deeply scarred and physically able to show it, Luna was the first friend she connected with at all, an ethereal wisp with an accent and an indifference to other people.

“Galla…” Luna groaned.

Luna knew she was gifted with an openness to humanity and to nature and it is painful, an open wound refusing to scab over to give the peace she desired. She needed to save herself from the constant influx of people static while also being open enough to share her life with Galla, Archer and Kai, their insular relationships indifferent to the world outside. She filled her disconnected world with distractions efficiently along with the anonymity cities always grant. Luna knew she has pulled Galla in so close that they isolated their damage in the barren wasteland outside of themselves.

“I know something is wrong. Is it Kai, again?” Kai, Galla knew, flung himself out into the world, connecting with everyone and anyone physically to disconnect emotionally. All he managed to achieve is to filter his stray world behind Luna’s protection, shelter his broken self. Kai Luna’s shadow, borrowing her strength, a sycophant, one alien soul in two bodies.

“No. Not Kai. It’s me. Its just…I don’t know how to say,” Luna shrugged, unable to describe her acute desolation, this undeniable sense of longing, protecting a void breaking open at the centre of her soul, the shifting illusion she presented to the world fractured, loosing the core of herself to hide. She feels adrift and unsure of where the stable earth is, only certain of the scars crackling between them, maintaining their bonds of trauma and flesh, “I don’t know.”

“We’re….” Galla spoke soft, “…as always us.”

“I feel…I’m expecting something,” Luna shook her head, “no, more like this intense sense of anticipation, but I don’t know what it is I’m waiting for.”

“Okay. We’ve to find what your missing?” Galla said before adding, “are you sure it isn’t that Kai may try to have us poisoned with his clothing choices?”

Luna giggled, shouldering Galla, the mood between them lifting, “I think we can safety assume he’ll be dressed appallingly.”

The city is old, built and rebuilt over centuries and particularly the inner city was full of back alleys, dark and useful places that can be delightful shortcuts when you know the paved secrets. Luna and Galla rustled out into the Ianthe laughing. Harper’s is an ancient place that at one point been a laundry, a coffee house, an art gallery and It evolved into a meeting place of revolutionaries, poets, artisans and painters, writers of glory and dissent and from this became a performance place with the dark corners creating life to songs of swords and heroes.

It is a small egress the width of a Volkswagen Beetle, barely lit and sunk most of the way through to the other side of the block. Where the back of darkness stopped, a minuscule kitchen slid, cooking some of the best foods and delectable treats. There are no menus, no list of micro-brewed beers, or ordering system. Harper’s only opened at nightfall, closed as daylight hit and was always full between those times, a cloud of people incessantly outside the doors. The battle to find a table matched only by the fight to keep it. Once gained, food and drink would appear on shoddy, graffitied tables.

Luna and Galla turned the last corner, the cloud of drifters and itinerants gradually using the last of the afternoon sun to gather and wait for it to fade. Galla and Luna crowded through the intimate space until they found Kai, defending a table.

“Took your time.”

“How’d you care?” Luna snickered at Galla answered.

“Double teaming tonight?”

“Always tri-teaming,” Luna replied, kicking him in the leg. They sat, the noise of Harper’s flexing, while the winter sun drifted to its inevitable solution.

“So do we get food here?” Galla asked.

“I already ate. You two are late.”

“Ohhh, Kai,” Galla brightened, “Guess…”

“Galla, no,” Luna pushed Galla mockingly, her face pulsating red in an instant as her thoughts turned to Chloe. Even her own mind betraying her, already flipping a hummingbird customer to thinking of her by name.

“What?” Kai’s interest peaked from Luna’s obvious flush, “Tell.”

“Don’t Galla,” warned Luna.

“Well, Kai,” began Galla, “Luna met someone…”

“That’s it!” Luna intercepted dramatically, “Kai, so no. Galla is simply being…”

Kai laughed, purring, “Owww, Luna…”

“She’s a corporate hummingbird, Kai, seriously,” Luna rolled her eyes.

“Ewwww. Social death.”

Laughing, more Harper’s specials appeared on the table. The three friends relaxed and chatted and with the inevitable influx of people, rose to the inspired pleasure of Harper’s entertainment. Even when Kai left for work, Galla and Luna stayed, mixing their bodies to the sounds, flowing and twisting until the last of the night relinquished to the dawn and Harper’s closed itself from it, a precipice retreating from dawn as it bleed life to the side walk.

The ladies, exhausted, drifted to their homes and yielded to the slumber awaiting them. There was a face in her dreams, a memory from the future, a longing for this figure remained when she woke, desperately longing for intimate connection with another. This intensity within the drift, the space between sleep and awake, and her desire burnt her soul into flames.

***

It took Chloe three days after the weekend away to walk back to Pacer and up to level two. It was late night, after finishing work, and she could not see the girl who captivated her interest so severely. Chloe wanted her, had dreamt about those dragon fire green eyes, the lilt of her her voice. She woke determined to talk to her, as she was unsure if she was simply focusing on someone, anyone, or if it was something about her specifically that had caught her attention. She had, instead of the spiral headed wonder, found the cashier with the unique facial scars walking across the floor.

Chloe shut the distance between them, “Excuse me.”

“How may I help you?” Galla smiled as she turned, recognising the customer to continue, “Beethoven?”

“Yes. Chloe, actually. I’m looking for Luna.”

“Really?” Galla’s smile deepened, “for?”

Chloe lowered her eyes as she flicked her wrist to see the time before replying, “That I’ll not say.”

“Then I’ll not help. She’s special.”

“Intriguing,” Chloe held Galla’s gaze, unspeakable micro-battles transmitting between them, “Its for a personal reason.”

“Then I can help,” Galla’s eyes glazed momentarily as she said, “Ivie…thirty minutes” before her focus returned to Chloe as she adjusted her headset, indicating the café in the corner. They sat in a quiet corner, coffee aroma drifting out of their cups before Galla asked, “What is it you want?”

“Luna,” Chloe’s voice with an unexpected tremor of truth, naked and scared of this exposure.

Galla’s smirked, “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Lucky for you, I think she wants you, too.”

A smile broke across Chloe’s face, “Excellent.”

“Not so much. We’re not in high school. I’m not going to pass notes.”

“Fair enough. So I should just…ask, then?”

“You need to make sure she will not say no.”

“How?”

“By being spectacular and unique, unexpected. All I’ll do is confirm our shift times. The details are up to you.”

Chloe wrote her number down, and shifted it across to Galla, “Thank you.”

“That’s okay. But I’ll be watching,” Galla laughed, “Sorry. That sounded bad…clichéd, I mean…”

“I understand,” Chloe replied as she joined in the laughter.

***

Luna sat with Galla at the edge of the dark edge of a dirty bar, watching the desperation shift by, “Why did we come here?”

“Because,” Galla shrugged.

“How’s that an answer?”

“If we’re going to hate the world together, can we at least observe the disgust with a little ingenuity.”

“We can do this at Harper’s. Or Arantxa if you want somewhere new.”

“We always go to Harper’s. It’s too easy. And we promised Kai we wouldn’t go to Arantxa without him.”

“Too easy? To do what?” Luna said.

“Judge.”

“I don’t hate the world, G, and neither do you.”

“How do you not hate the world?” Galla pushed.

“G,” Luna finished her drink, disliking the challenge,“I’m leaving.”

“Luna…”

“No. This place is skanky.”

“Fine. Violet Pier?”

“Fine,” Luna pushed her way out of the dark bar and onto the darker street, “Galla, why are we here?”

“Because I’m tired of pretending. You say no to everything.”

“What do you mean.”

“You saw the people back there? The aged despair, the lonely hopelessness. That is us. You. Me. Kai.” Galla knew Luna and Kai’s history, felt their pain and the constant presence of federal agents.

“How’ll we end up like that when there are three of us?”

“Kai is a stripper, worshipped for his slight frame and youth, will abandon himself to become the leader of a group as lost as he is. I hide…” Galla didn’t remember being loved, really, just a vague sense of comfort and warmth lingering that left her longing.

She unconsciously caressed her face, along the puckered skin sewn into three scars running from her hairline to just under her chin. These should have faded, but as her face grew, the scars stretched with it. Her eye had sustained far too much damage and was removed, completing the wreckage of her face. It is both what kept her apart and got her attention.

We build our own cages, Galla thought, I just keep bars around mine, “…you know you do, always volunteering to cover the silences, not filled by work. We’re denying what will let us grow. The three of us have this sense of contagious, contaminated decay wrapping us into our own world. We’ll be those people at that bar if we don’t change. I don’t want to be them.”

They remained silent until they reached the Violet Pier Bar, jutted precociously onto the end of the pier, where the pylons and water met. The night is damp and the pier wood gleamed wet underneath them walking out to the bar, decamping at a spot left of centre.

“Why now? What happened?”

“Luna. You’re acting all strange, you can’t even voice what you is going on, but I feel what you feel as much as you feel me. Something is drifting.”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I guess.”

“No, L, I don’t know exactly what it is, but it is something And you’re scared. But scarier than what was in that bar?”

“Galla. I’m just not sure. We’re so different…”

“Truth? You cannot avoid life forever, even if you’re scared.”

“I know.”

***

Chloe sat at her desk, half a bottle of wine already gone, looking aimlessly out on the glowing city, as alive as ever at midnight. From this height, the cacophony of the streets dull. She had been at a corporate fundraiser. It seemed there were always more and more to attend, donate to, sit on the executive board with, fill all the time with. She is unsure how much emptiness she had left to fill, already lecturing at the universities medical unit, on the board for Avalon Asylum, the Opera committee, and the Arts Academy Foundation.

One weekend a month was already donated to the Kahtya Foundation, monitoring the health of the cities Kahtya Slums, infested as they are with disease and poverty. This all in addition to her actual work running the neurological unit at Mathilde Avenue Research Hospital. Chloe felt tired and desolate. All of these things, hollow objects and mirrored places were meant to be fulfilling her, yet had left her exactly where she currently was — alone.

Chloe’s life predetermined rather than predestined, she felt mostly her choices had been made for her, under the guise of “proper” reasons rather than for herself. Honestly, she could not say it was wrong, these decisions having made her wealthy, secure, successful and well respected. Still, external expectations dictated her current choices, how her reality is presented over how she actually felt. She always feels the isolation acutely. Unattached, her fear had distilled into a spectacular career, but an empty life. Her mind drifted, inexplicably, to the delightful Luna and she felt that it was time to implement her plan. She found her phone and texted Galla.

Chloe’s car service dropped her off at three am to Pacer. She stood, momentarily, outside before walking through the door. Galla texted her to tell her the level they would be on. She slipped up to the second floor, looking around the surprisingly busy floor. Instruments were being played across the café. She saw Luna standing on the counter, bass strung heavily between her hands.

Chloe mesmerised, hearing the melancholic heaviness of music, allowing thirty people to cohesively bind together, these remnants of the night scattered across the floor, sitting as enraptured as she. Chloe walked around the edge of the crowd to sit at an empty space, watching Luna’s nimble fingers across the four steel strings. A figure dropped down next to her as a clatter of bags landing at her feet, “Hi.”

“Galla,” Chloe smiled.

“I feel this may not be your type of music.”

“It does not mean I cannot enjoy this,” Chloe laughed.

“Or enjoying her…”

“Why are you not playing?” Chloe asked, ignoring Galla’s cheekiness.

“Went to get out bags,” Galla shrugged, “I was done.”

Coffee’s appeared within the hands of one of the cafe’s barristers. Galla took hers and Luna’s and indicated the third is for Chloe.

“Thanks,” Chloe admired, “Won’t Luna’s get cold?”

“Your welcome. Luna doesn’t really like hot coffee.”

They sat in silence, watching Luna finish that song and the next three, before jumping down and passing the instrument off. She came over and lent down to pick up her coffee before hesitantly looking at Chloe, softly saying “Hey…” before flicking her eyes to Galla, “Thanks, G.”

“Ready?”

“Yup,” Galla and Chloe stood as Luna picked up her bag and walked together down to the ground level, into the silence. Chloe leaned in and whispered, “thank-you,” and as her lips pulled away, grazed them across Luna’s cheek, “see you tomorrow.”

They all walked out together and then separated, Galla and Luna heading towards the monorail.

“Why was she here, G?”

“I guess she likes you…” Galla said, smiling mischievously.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear!” Galla held her hands up, feigning innocence.

“Yes, of course you didn’t. Instead I’ve a stalker. Now I understand why you took me to drink in that filthy bar.”

Galla snorted, “Who’d stalk you?”

“Shut up,” Luna shouldered Galla.

When Luna got home as she pulled out her mobile, a brown paper wrapped object floated inside of her bag. She unwrapped it to find a notebook and matching pen. It was covered in muted watercolour owls. Opening the book to the inside cover, swift, confident handwriting had inscribed her name across the page. Luna smiled.

***

Branches the thickness of her wrist slapped her across her face, gouging out her skin, ripping at her hands as she tried to shield herself, bloodying her. She felt her breath scream in her throat, stabbing cold ice into her lungs, her feet slipping against uneven brook side damp.

She can’t see, feels the sharp drop in creature as white mist descended on her, falling disastrously against the a pool of water in the middle of the ocean and she thrashed swallowing brackish water, violently throwing herself awake, Luna sat up. She hadn’t had a night like this for a long time. She did not have the luxury of falling apart. Kai depends on her stability. Even when out of control, he knows to return to her safety.

When she dreams were like this, it was as if her history, her memories were coming to eat her alive from the inside. Her desire for this infuriatingly persistent woman triggered the nightmares again, allowed them to creep back into her life.

***

The entire week of night shifts, Chloe appeared at three am, effortlessly sexy, with a gift and shared a coffee. The week was intense and intimate until Galla texted her that they would not be at work for the weekend. She gave no other explanation, yet said that they were returning to night shifts. Chloe drove alone to her country cottage, Westwood Manor, to spend the weekend with friends she had known longer then herself. The radio she left off, with the windows closed against the chill.

This drive, while only three hours, is the only silence she seems to get, the only time she could truly be alone, allowing her to turn her beeper and mobile off. Her mind swam with Luna, her dancing, her fluidity, the small part of herself hoped against reality that Luna would be thinking of her, twisted with the same plague of intuition. This is the reason she is driving, to see the trilogy of lovers to centre her again, give her the insight she could not have of herself.

The cottage is her safe place, full of friends and memories binding them all together. Quin, Caro and Arlo shared her life since their time at boarding school. As the four of them moved through school and university together, becoming a bubble of their own making, insulated with everything they did. Study, travel and desire spun into years of evolution into adulthood, loving each other beyond all else.

The highway to the Lake’s district became smaller and thinner until twisting into a two lane road to connect all of the villages surrounding the two great lakes and the thirteen smaller ones hidden as they were within marshlands screaming with inhabited life. Lake St. Clair was heavily forested, villages and houses etched out of the ground with little visual impact to the flow of the lakes.

Chloe swung through the six largest villages along the first largest lake, closest to the interconnected highways. Even at this hour, life was drifting lazily, and the next few smaller villages were completely quiet. Chloe rounded over a bridge and the road squeezed smaller, rougher at the edges, as she continued a third of the way past the second lake where the villages slowed to a speckle and the cottages were isolated mansions prized for the century’s old stone work and deep treated timbre.

It was on the cusp of darkness, the daylight sifting through, shaking peppered light gradually succumbing to night when she drove past the single cobbled row of shops, Miller’s Inn, and hit a large gate fifteen minutes later that opened achingly at the push of a button recessed into her dashboard. The driveway was gravel and twisted through natural old growth forest. The cusp of change entranced Chloe, fascinated and enticed her, sheltered her, encased her within this transition between the space in the middle.

She walked in the wood front doors as dusk was settling further into darkness and walked into the living room. After curling within the warmth of her friends, she sat on the rug in front of the fire, the round glass glinting within the orange-yellow glow.

Caro, lying across the sofa staring at the dark ceiling, said, “Who is she?”

“I don’t know…” a wash of emotions surged through Chloe as she attempted to explain how someone she only just met threw her into turmoil.

“What do you know, then,” Arlo asked, curled up next to Quin.

“Her name is Luna. She works at Pacer. When we shook hands, it felt inexplicable, of fire and forever. Her eyes are dragon flame green and sear right through me. She has short, spiky purple and pink hair that is a halo of colour every time she stands near light, her voice sounds like honey in the rain. She has a watercolour owl tattoo on her neck,” hope floated in Chloe’s voice that in an ordinary moment, one simple and sweet and like any other, a squall can come and obliterate all else without warning. How within this ordinary moments, life transforms, mutates, changes.

“When did this happen?”

“Ten days ago. She’s been on night shift all week, I’ve been meeting her at three in the morning the entire time,” Chloe’s eyes were lost, hazy in the golden glow. The lull between the quartet was ancient and coiled across their thirty odd year friendship.

“On a scale of indifference to Disney princess, how lost are you?”

“Three thousand kisses and I would still not be done, three thousand kisses this second would not satisfy me. I lust for her beyond measure to which I could not live without her,” Chloe said, her face was part anguish, part euphoric desire to consume Luna, then she shrugged, “I sound absurd, even to myself.”

“You love the idea of her more than yourself. Finally, someone has broken through,” Caro smiled.

“I love you three more than me!” Chloe said, “and this whole situation is ludicrous. How do I feel this way when I don’t even know her.”

***

Its not the same. You know because that’s why you don’t live here with us. You understand the love we have together,” Quin indicated Arlo and Caro along with herself, “Is the love you want, and sometimes love is like is, friends who become lovers, yet this does not invalidate strangers having chemistry. Like you and Luna.”

Chloe shrugged, “yes, I know. She has…enthralled me.”

“We can tell,” chuckled Arlo, “Are we going to meet her?”

“I’m still working on it.”

“Wait. You haven’t been out with her yet?”

“Well…”Chloe smiled as she giggled, “…I’m trying.”

“Have you considered asking her, maybe?” Caro asked, “or do you need help with some farcical plan you’ve concocted?”

“I was thinking of a picnic in the greenhouse.”

“Perfect. I’ve some new treats you can taste test,” Quin added.