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  Why was Trish doing this, when she’d said she didn’t want it? It could only mean that she’d changed her mind. Hope made June want to be reckless, to kiss Trish here where anyone might see. Instead she remained still, save for her thumb caressing the back of Trish’s hand.

  Suddenly Trish moved away from her, wheeling back the chair that she was sitting on and returning it. There was nothing in her behavior that showed what had just happened between them, but June was sure that Trish must be masking the same feelings she was having.

  “Thanks for your help,” June said. When Trish looked back at her, it was with a strange blankness that June didn’t know how to interpret.

  “You’re welcome. Hope those articles are of some help to you, anyway.”

  “Me too.” June put her hands behind her head, trying to slow her breathing as Trish walked away.

  Trish was conspicuously absent for the rest of the morning.

  Chapter Seven

  “Good morning,” June said, grinning at Trish as she passed the front desk.

  Trish waved and smiled back at her, relieved to see June acting like everything was fine. All night, Trish had worried about the day before, and what had happened between them. It pulled her close to the surface of sleep, and she’d woken up this morning feeling like sand had been rubbed in her eyes.

  Trish shouldn’t have touched June like that, especially so soon after they’d had a conversation about just being friends. She was painfully aware that she was sending mixed signals, and she fully expected that once June had time to think about it, she would be mad. In fact, she was so convinced about it that she had been rehearsing her apology. Trish wanted to say sorry before June got too busy, to get it out of the way quickly and clear the air.

  Trish looked around and checked that nobody would notice her absence, then went in search of June. Fortunately, there were no students nearby, and the cubicle June had chosen to work in was relatively private.

  Trish knocked on the side of it to draw June’s attention. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Of course, you can. Pull up a chair.” June pushed her laptop closed. “You look nervous. Is this about yesterday by any chance?”

  Trish twisted one of her rings around a finger, looking down at the desk. “Yes. I’m not sure if I should even bring it up. But I’ve been thinking about it. I’m sorry if I made things weird.”

  June gently took Trish’s hands and pulled them away from one another, stopping her from fidgeting. Then June took her hands away, folding them in her lap.

  “I’m not mad at you, it’s okay. I mean, I was a little confused. You were acting like you…well, you were acting one way and then you were just gone. I feel like you’re changing your mind a lot. Talk to me. Help me to know what to think.”

  Trish took a deep breath. “This is kind of hard for me to admit, but I don’t have many friends. I know we just met, but I think we were kind of becoming friends. Can that still happen, do you think?”

  “Of course. We don’t know each other well, but I like hanging out with you. I’m not going to want to stop just because you touched my leg. I was there too.”

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m playing games or trying to…I don’t know…”

  “Lead me on?” June said, softening her words with a smile. “I’m not going to pretend it didn’t cross my mind.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “Well, what was it about then?”

  Trish ran her fingers through her hair. This was much harder than she’d thought it would be, even though June was being kind to her. She wondered why she hadn’t just let the whole thing go. Trish hated to think that she might be putting herself in this mortifying situation if she didn’t need to.

  “I don’t even know. Like I said I don’t have a lot of friends, and I especially don’t have a lot of friends who are, you know, like me, so maybe I just don’t know how to act?”

  “Like you how, exactly? Into books? Lovers of literature?” June said, smirking.

  “You know what I mean. Gay.”

  June cupped a hand around her mouth. “Gay. How very scandalous.”

  Trish covered her face with her hand. “Stop it, this is really hard for me.”

  “Trish, there’s no rule book for how to behave. We’re just feeling our way along like any two people who have just met one another, and that’s okay. But while we’re being super frank, can I ask you something?”

  Trish nodded, hands fidgeting again. She wondered where exactly this might be leading.

  “Maybe I’m starting to understand why the whole romantic friendship idea was appealing to you. I’ve been thinking about that since yesterday. You don’t want a relationship but there’s something about the intimacy of it that appeals to you. It’s safe, it doesn’t get all complicated by sex. Am I getting warm?”

  It was embarrassing to admit it, but June wasn’t wrong. That kind of arrangement would be all reward and no risk. A friendship like that would mean that she could feel June’s admiration of her, she could even have some physical contact with her, but she didn’t have to jump into a relationship that she wasn’t ready for.

  “I hadn’t really put a name to it like that, even when we were talking about it before, but you’re probably right. Does that make me an awful person?” Trish asked.

  June shrugged. “I’m not here to judge you. It kind of makes sense now that I think about it. It’s like when I used to have crushes on straight friends at school. We’d be close, but I never expected anything to happen. Maybe that was just a modern version of a romantic friendship.”

  “Well, obviously now that we’ve had this conversation I promise I won’t do anything like that again. I’ll be more appropriate, I swear.”

  “What if that’s not what I want?”

  June’s eyes didn’t leave hers, and Trish’s pulse hammered. To say the least, this was not what she’d expected.

  “What are you saying?” Trish asked.

  “Why don’t we just try it? A romantic friendship? What have we got to lose?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I want to try it. I’ve been so critical of the idea, but you were right when you said there are all different kinds of relationships. What if we just try to make it our own thing? We agree that we just stay friends, but we can be physical with one another if that’s what we want. I’m not talking about sex. But if we feel like hugging, holding hands, whatever, we agree that’s okay?”

  “What do you get out of it, though? It sounds like I get to have what I want, but what do you get?”

  Wouldn’t it be terribly selfish to take what June was offering, when she had made it clear that she wanted more? Still, the idea was so tempting, Trish couldn’t imagine rejecting it. She wanted to be held by June, to be near her and to be touched by her. And June was forthright; if she said this was what she wanted then shouldn’t Trish take her at her word?

  “Maybe the same things you’re getting. A close friendship. As a bonus, I get to be honest with you. I can tell you if I think you look especially pretty or if I like what you’re wearing. Things I’d hold back from if I had to be concerned with being appropriate, whatever that means. Tell me what you think.”

  “I think if we’re going to do that we have to negotiate an agreement,” Trish said.

  “That sounds like a good idea. Work out the boundaries so they don’t get blurred. Here,” June said, opening a new document on her laptop. “I’ll even type it up so it’s official.”

  Trish stared at the laptop screen. This was one of the strangest conversations she’d ever had.

  “Can I stipulate that we keep this to ourselves? I’m not sure other people would understand.”

  There was a reason Trish had suggested this condition first. Not only was the idea of anyone else knowing embarrassing, she couldn’t imagine how she’d ever explain it to a third party.

  June agreed, typing it in as the first bullet point. “What are the physic
al boundaries for you?” June asked, glancing at Trish’s lips.

  “Well, I don’t think we should be kissing. Not on the lips, anyway.”

  “Chaste kissing only. I’m putting in that touching over the clothes is fine, and if someone’s getting too close we need to have a safe word.”

  Trish giggled. “A safe word? This is weird. Coffee.”

  “So weird you know exactly what to pick, huh? Coffee it is. Coffee means back off. Is there anything I’m not allowed to say to you?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, say I want to use a term of endearment. Call you honey or baby.”

  “I didn’t realize you were the pet name type.”

  “Well now you know, sugar tits,” June replied.

  Trish laughed. “Okay, you can call me whatever you want.”

  “What if I wanted to write about this or talk about it in connection with my book? It’s an interesting personal angle.”

  “You can do that as long as you leave my name out of it, I guess.”

  “Of course. I guess that’s it, really. I can’t think of what else we’d need to put in there. We can add to it if we think of anything later.”

  “I think we should put down that either of us can terminate the agreement at any time,” Trish said.

  “Oh, that’s a good one. With no explanation necessary. If either of us feels uncomfortable, we can pull the pin.” June added the last point to the list. “I’ll print this out when I get home and give you a copy.”

  “You don’t have to do that, I’ll remember everything.”

  It was so bizarre that she’d recall every word of this exchange. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t thrilled by it. She wouldn’t have to pretend anymore, and the structure they’d just developed made it safe for both of them.

  “I’m giving you one anyway, otherwise it’s not official. Okay, now shake on it?”

  They shook hands firmly, nodding at each other.

  “Thank you, June. I’m going to let you get back to work,” Trish said.

  “Okay. Do you want to meet for coffee tomorrow morning, before you start work? At the coffee cart near the arts building?”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  “All right. I’ll see you then.”

  Trish walked away, unable to believe what she’d just signed up for.

  The next morning, they met half an hour before Trish’s shift began.

  “Good morning,” Trish said. Though she felt so much better since they’d talked, she was still nervous about how this was going to work out. All night she thought about the agreement, switching back and forth between excitement and the conviction they were doing something crazy and stupid.

  “Hi,” June said, peeling off her gloves and shaking Trish’s hand. June held her hand for a long time, then ran her fingers up Trish’s arm.

  Trish brushed hair back from her face. If a slightly extended handshake could make her feel like this, she wasn’t sure how she was going to cope if things got more intimate. Not that she was complaining.

  They walked toward the concrete steps of the arts building. It had been drizzling all morning, and June put her coat down on the damp steps for them to sit on. They settled near to one another on it as students walked up and down the steps around them. It occurred to Trish that June might have chosen this spot because it was away from the library, so it afforded them some privacy.

  June dropped her gloves on the step, took a piece of folded paper from her pocket, and handed it to Trish. She didn’t need to look at it to know that it was a copy of their contract. Trish slipped it into her handbag without unfolding it.

  “Um, thank you. How long have you had the bike?” Trish asked, relieved to find a subject to break the ice.

  “A couple of years now. It’s the only bike I’ve had since I got my license. I bought her off a friend’s brother. You ever been on one?”

  “Never.”

  “Oh, you’re missing out. I’ll take you out one day. We could go for a ride outside the city, out to the mountains or somewhere.”

  “That sounds nice. I’d like to do that.”

  “So, have you just got the one sister?” June asked.

  From that point onward, it was easy. By the time they had finished their drinks, Trish knew about June’s two younger brothers and her mother, knew that her parents were divorced and that her father lived overseas. She knew that June had a roommate, a guy that she was very close to.

  June asked a lot of questions in return. She was particularly interested in Trish’s relationship with Leigh. “I’ve always wanted a sister,” she said.

  “You can meet her sometime if you like. She loves meeting people, she’s a social butterfly. She’s the life of the party, not like me at all.”

  “I’d love to meet her,” June said. “Why do you say that, though? I think you’re fun.”

  Trish pulled a face. “That’s not really my reputation.”

  “Sometimes reputations don’t mean much. You’re fun to hang out with. I don’t just like you for your looks.” June elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” Trish replied. “And what about you, what’s your reputation?”

  “I don’t know. I think people are surprised I’m a writer, because I’m too outgoing. If I had to sum it up, I’m the class clown.”

  “See, reputations really are stupid then, because I don’t think you’re a clown.”

  “Thank you,” June said quietly. She reached out and ran her fingertips down Trish’s back over her sweater.

  She took her hand away and looked at the time on her phone. “I guess I should be getting to work.”

  June offered her a hand to help Trish stand up. Trish brushed off the back off her skirt, smoothing it down over her legs. June picked up both of their empty coffee cups and walked them over to a nearby trash can in a few long strides.

  “This was nice. It’s good for me to take time out and relax, instead of going into work right away. I bet I get more work done now I’m not wound so tight,” June said.

  Together, they walked to the library.

  “We should do this again,” Trish said while June held the door open for her. “Are you coming in tomorrow, we could meet then?”

  “Tomorrow I’m going to see Anne before class. How about we meet on Friday?”

  “See you then,” Trish said.

  Trish watched June walk away to find a space to work. She liked the security of knowing that they had plans, that she wouldn’t have to try and figure out a way to initiate contact again.

  Trish hummed while she went to the staff room to deposit her handbag and coat, light and free, feeling like it wasn’t a work day at all.

  Chapter Eight

  June and Trish quickly established a pattern. Each morning that they were both going to be at the library, they sat on the stairs of the arts building with coffee. A couple of weeks passed in the same way, fall flowing into winter. The season typically inspired melancholy in June, but this year she leapt from bed in the frosty dark mornings.

  What had drawn June to Trish was her reserve and her serious nature, and that only made it more gratifying when Trish began to show a different side of herself. Slowly, June was peeling back the layers and beginning to understand more about what kind of person Trish was.

  Once, seeing that June was cold, Trish unwound her red tartan scarf and draped the wool around June’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, but I’m really okay,” June said, moving to give the scarf back.

  “Please, keep it. You’re from sunny Queensland, you need it more than I do.”

  “I’ve been here for years! I’m used to the cold by now.”

  “Oh, I see then. You’re afraid that it doesn’t go with your uniform.”

  June laughed. “What uniform are you talking about?”

  Trish waved a finger around, pointing toward June’s black sweater and gray coat.

  “The monochrome thing you have goi
ng on. Don’t get me wrong, it really works for you,” Trish said, suggestively enough that June wanted to lean over and kiss her.

  They hadn’t indulged in much touching. It wasn’t that June didn’t want to, but it hadn’t felt right so far. At times like these she wanted to hug Trish, or hold her hand, but the place where they met was so public. That didn’t bother June at all, but she knew how much it would upset Trish.

  It wasn’t just that; she also worried about the contract. June knew that instigating it was a weird thing for her to have done, even if it never felt strange between them. It would crush her if Trish ever thought that she was being manipulated into anything. The more time June spent around Trish, the more she saw her as someone uniquely kind and intelligent, the kind of woman she’d always imagined herself ending up with.

  June settled for sitting close to Trish, for carving out little moments when she could put a hand on her shoulder or help her out of her seat. When she thought she could get away with it, she’d brush her fingers against Trish’s hand. June loved watching a certain heat slip into Trish’s gaze, and she got off more than she could say on increasing the tension between them.

  One day, two weeks after they’d signed their “contract,” they were sitting on their stairs. The morning fog had barely lifted, it was so thick that they couldn’t see the building across from them.

  “I can’t get over it. A couple of weeks ago, it was sunny,” Trish said.

  “It does feel like it set in fast. My mother’s gone to Bali. She always goes for a couple of weeks around this time of year. She gets seasonal depression.”

  “I’ve never been. Never really travelled actually. Have you?”

  “Not to Bali, no. But I travelled around Europe when I finished high school,” June said. “Stayed in a lot of crappy hostels. I loved it. I got myself into a few scrapes, drank too much. I met some interesting people, that’s for sure.”

  “That sounds wonderful. My parents offered to send me to Europe after I finished college, but I was too intimidated by the thought of it.”