Chapter 2: The Dinner Party Surprise
The smell of garlic and rosemary hit Natalie the moment she pushed open Tash’s front door, followed by the warm, overlapping waves of conversation and laughter. She kicked off her boots beside the mat, her station badge clinking against the wood floor. A normal Sunday. A too-loud family dinner. Just what she’d needed after a brutal double shift.
“Nat! You’re late, we’re already on the second bottle of wine!” Brittany’s voicecarried from the living room, bright and sharp as broken glass.
“My fault,” Natalie called back, hanging her jacket. “Traffic was a nightmare on—“
The sentence died in her throat.
She walked into the living room, and the world narrowed to a single point. Perched on the worn arm of Tash’s sofa, one long leg extended, a bottle of beer dangling from her fingers, was Zebby.
Not a pixelated image. Not a whisper in the dark. Here. Solid. Real.
Her short blonde hair was messy, as if she’d just run her hands through it. She was wearing faded jeans and a simple grey henley that stretched across her shoulders. She was laughing, a warm, low sound that Natalie felt in her bones, at something Brittany had just said. The lamplight caught the hazel in her eyes.
Three years of secret history—of texts sent under dinner tables, of video calls muted during family movies, of a hidden folder of photos and the ghost of her whispered promises—exploded silently in Natalie’s chest. The air vanished from her lungs.
Zebby’s gaze swung toward the doorway. The laughter froze on her face. Her eyes, those warm, knowing eyes, widened a fraction. A million silent messages flashed in that split second: panic, awe, a desperate, hungry recognition. Then it was shuttered behind a polite, neutral mask. It was the most terrifying performance Natalie had ever seen.
Brittany, oblivious, bounded over. “Nat, this is Zebby! From my online gaming group? The one who helped me with that streaming setup forever ago? She’s in town for some advanced paramedic thing at the hospital.” She hooked her arm through Natalie’s, dragging her forward. “Zeb, this is my cousin Natalie. The one I’m always telling you is a workaholic.”
Natalie’s legs carried her forward on autopilot. She could smell Zebby now—not just the imagined scent from a screen, but the clean, faintly soapy smell of her skin, mixed with the hint of rain still clinging to her jacket thrown over a chair. Her hands were trembling. She balled them into fists.
“Hi,” Natalie said. Her voice sounded strange, thin. “I’m Nat. Tash’s cousin.” She extended her hand, a formal, ridiculous gesture.
Zebby stood. She was taller in person. The height, the athletic build Natalie knew from a thousand carefully angled selfies, was imposing in the cozy room. Their hands connected.
It was a lightning strike.
Zebby’s palm was warm, slightly rough. A paramedic’s hand. The hand that had been on herself, in the dim light of her apartment, just nights ago while Natalie watched. Natalie’s own hand was cold. The touch lasted a second too long, a second too short. A current of pure, undiluted want crackled up Natalie’s arm.
“Zebby Spivey,” Zebby said. Her voice was calm, steady, a professional tenor she used with patients. It was nothing like the ragged whisper from the video call. “Nice to finally meet you. Britt talks about you all the time.”
Finally. The word hung in the air between them, loaded, insane.
“All good things, I hope,” Natalie managed, pulling her hand back as if burned. She could still feel the imprint of Zebby’s fingers.
“Mostly that you steal her leftovers from the break room fridge,” Tash said, walking in from the kitchen with a bowl of salad. She wiped her hands on a towel, her nurse’s eyes missing nothing. She looked at Zebby, then at Natalie, her head tilting a fraction. “You okay, Nat? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Long shift,” Natalie blurted, tearing her gaze from Zebby. “Multi-vehicle MVA last night. Messy.”
Zebby’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. A callback. An acknowledgment. I was there. I ran out after you made me come. I dealt with the wreckage.
“Zebby probably caught the tail end of that, didn’t you?” Tash asked, placing the bowl on the crowded coffee table, nudging aside a half-knit scarf. “She’s doing ride-alongs with the county EMS for her cert.”
“Yeah,” Zebby said, taking a slow sip of her beer. Her eyes found Natalie’s again, just for a flash. “We were on that call. It was… chaotic.”
The room seemed to press in. Brittany was chattering about the wine, pulling Zebby back into a story about their gaming guild. Natalie stood rooted to the spot, watching Zebby interact with her family. Watching her be charming, funny, a little self-deprecating. She was perfect. She was a stranger. It was agony.
Dinner was a special kind of torture. Natalie sat directly across from Zebby. Every time she looked up, Zebby was there. Cutting her chicken. Smiling softly at something Tash’s mom said. Laughing with her whole body, a laugh Natalie had only ever heard through headphones. Their knees almost brushed under the table. Natalie felt each near-miss like a static shock.
“So, Zebby,” Tash said, passing the roasted carrots. “Brittany says you’re from Missouri. What brings you all the way out here for training?”
Zebby set her fork down carefully. “The program here has a good reputation. And,” she paused, her gaze flicking to Natalie for a millisecond, “I needed a change of scenery. Something… new.”
“Well, it’s great to have you,” Brittany said, beaming. “You should come to the big family barbecue next month! It’s a zoo, but the food is insane.”
Natalie’s wine caught in her throat. She coughed.
“You alright?” Tash asked, watching her again.
“Fine,” Natalie wheezed. She dared to look at Zebby, who was studying her with a concerned, polite expression that didn’t reach her eyes. Her real eyes were screaming.
As dessert was cleared, Brittany dragged Zebby to the living room couch to show her some viral video on her phone. Natalie helped Tash load the dishwasher, her movements mechanical.
“She’s nice,” Tash commented, handing Natalie a rinsed plate.
“Who?”
“Zebby. Don’t be dense.” Tash closed the dishwasher door and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “You’ve been quiet. Jumpy. More than just shift tired.”
“I’m fine, Tash.”
“You two have a weird vibe.”
Natalie’s blood went cold. “What? We just met.”
“I know. That’s what’s weird.” Tash shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I’m imagining it. Go be social. You’re hovering.”
Natalie walked back into the living room. Brittany was now digging through Tash’s records, holding up an old Bowie album. Zebby was standing by the bookshelf, alone, pretending to examine a framed photo of the Squire family at a beach. Natalie walked over, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She stopped beside her, leaving a careful, friend-appropriate foot of space. They both stared at the photo—a younger, grinning Natalie squinting in the sun.
“This is a nice one,” Zebby said, her voice low, for Natalie alone. It had dropped an octave, lost its company polish.
“My hair was a disaster,” Natalie murmured, not looking at her.
“I like it.” Zebby’s finger, out of sight of the room, brushed lightly against Natalie’s pinky where it hung at her side. The contact was electric, devastating. “You’re beautiful in sunlight.”
Natalie swayed. She wanted to lean into her, to bury her face in that henley, to confess everything right there. Instead, she clenched her hand.
“We can’t,” she breathed, the words barely audible.
“I know.” Zebby’s finger withdrew. The loss was physical. “Your cousin Tash is… perceptive.”
“She’s a nurse. She notices symptoms.”
Zebby finally turned her head. Up close, Natalie could see the faint tiredness under her eyes, the tiny scar above her brow she’d never noticed on screen. The reality of her was overwhelming. “What’s the diagnosis here, Nat?”
The use of her name, her private name, in this crowded room almost broke her. “I don’t know.”
Brittany twirled around, holding the record. “Found it! Zeb, you have to hear this track.” She beckoned her over, breaking the spell.
Zebby gave Natalie one last, long look—a look full of three years of waiting, and the terrifying, thrilling impossibility of now—and moved away to join Brittany.
Natalie stayed by the bookshelf, watching her laugh and talk with her cousin, a perfect, charming virtual stranger. Her skin still hummed where Zebby’s finger had brushed hers. The secret, which had lived so quietly in the digital dark, was now a physical thing in the room, breathing the same air, smelling of garlic and lavender and wanting. It was no longer a secret they kept from the world.
It was a secret they had to perform. And Natalie, facing the long, smiling, painful charade ahead, had never been more terrified, or more alive.