Chapter 13: Revelations at Breakfast
The first thing Grace became aware of was warmth. A solid, breathing warmth molded against her front, and the gentle tickle of hair against her chin. She blinked slowly into the grey-gold light of their room. Skye was still asleep, hugged tightly to her, one of Grace’s arms curled possessively around her waist. The scent of sweat and sex and Skye’s shampoo filled the quiet air.
Grace pressed her lips softly to the sun-kissed skin at the nape of Skye’s neck, a contented sigh escaping her. She felt Skye stir, a subtle shift of muscles. A low, sleepy hum vibrated against her chest.
“Mmm. Good morning,” Skye murmured, her voice rough with sleep. She turned carefully in Grace’s arms, their noses brushing. Skye’s brown eyes, still heavy-lidded, found Grace’s. A smile, soft and unguarded, spread across her face. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Grace whispered back, her thumb stroking the dip of Skye’s waist. The memory of last night—the feel of the rugby laces in her hands, the sound Skye made when she came—flooded her, hot and immediate. A faint blush crept up her neck. “How’re you feeling?”
Skye shifted, wincing slightly. “Sore. In the best way.” She reached behind her back, her fingers brushing Grace’s forearm. “You tied a mean knot, champ.”
Grace ducked her head, hiding her smile in the pillow. “Sorry. Not sorry.”
They lay in silence for a while, listening to the distant sound of a garbage truck on the street below. Grace traced the line of Skye’s shoulder, over the faint, love-bite bruises she’d left there.
“Last night,” Grace began, her voice quiet but steady. “I… I really liked it. Being like that. For you.”
Skye’s gaze was intent. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve never felt… powerful like that. Not in a scary way. In a sure way. Like I knew exactly what you needed.” Grace chewed her lip. “Even the choking thing. I was terrified I’d hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” Skye said, capturing Grace’s wandering hand and lacing their fingers together. “You asked. You checked. That’s the whole point. I trust you.” She brought Grace’s knuckles to her lips. “I’ve been with a lot of people, Grace. I’ve never felt safer than when I was on my knees for you.”
The words settled deep in Grace’s chest, a glowing, solid thing. She leaned forward and kissed Skye, a slow, tasting kiss that held the ghost of the night before.
When they parted, Grace took a breath. “So, um. My university championships are in a week. Gymnastics.”
Skye’s face immediately lit up. “No way. That’s huge!”
“It is. And… I want you there. Front row. Like I was for you at your last rugby match.” Grace’s voice grew shy. “I want to look up and see you. It’ll make me less nervous.”
Skye squeezed her hand. “Are you kidding? I will be the obnoxious one screaming your name. I’ll make a sign. A big, glittery, embarrassing sign.”
Grace giggled, the sound bubbling up with relief. “Don’t you dare.”
“Too late. It’s happening.” Skye grinned. “My girlfriend, the award-winning gymnast. Has a nice ring to it.”
The word—girlfriend—hung between them, new and dazzling. Grace felt a dizzying rush of joy. She kissed Skye again, harder this time, pouring her answer into it.
Reluctantly, they untangled themselves from the sheets. The room was a mess—the rumpled white dress lay in a heap by the bed, the harness beside it. Skye’s rugby laces were still looped loosely around one bedpost.
Grace pulled on her dependable jeans and a soft, grey tank top, not bothering with a bra. She watched as Skye rummaged through her drawer, emerging with a pair of scarlet cotton panties and that bright red skirt. She paired it with a simple white button-up, knotting it neatly just below her ribs.
“Show-off,” Grace said, smiling.
“You love it,” Skye retorted, stepping into her sandals.
At the door, they paused. Skye looked at Grace, a question in her eyes. Grace didn’t hesitate. She slid her hand into Skye’s, their fingers locking together. The contact was electric, a silent proclamation.
The hallway to the kitchen was short, but it felt momentous. They could hear the clatter of plates and the murmur of voices—Jenna, Marco, and Li, already milling about for breakfast.
Skye took a deep breath. “Ready?”
Grace nodded, squeezing her hand. “Ready.”
They pushed the kitchen door open together. Marco was at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes. Li was scrolling on her phone at the table, and Jenna was leaning against the counter, cradling a massive mug of coffee.
All movement stopped. Three pairs of eyes landed on their intertwined hands.
Jenna took a slow sip from her mug, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Well. It’s about damn time.”
Marco’s spatula hovered in mid-air. “Wait. What did I miss?”
Li looked up, her eyes widening behind her glasses. “Oh.”
Grace felt her cheeks burn, but she held Skye’s hand tighter, anchoring herself. Skye stepped forward, her shoulders squared with that familiar rugby-captain confidence, but Grace could feel the subtle tremor in her grip.
“So,” Skye announced, her voice clear and bright in the sunlit kitchen. “Grace and I are together. Like, together together.”
Jenna set her mug down with a definitive clink. “Called it after that spin-the-bottle disaster weeks ago. You two looked like you’d been struck by lightning.”
Marco finally lowered the spatula, a wide, genuine grin breaking across his face. “No kidding? That’s awesome, you guys!” He pointed the spatula at them. “Does this mean we get to stop tiptoeing around the obvious, crushing tension? It was like living in a rom-com.”
Li stood up, smiling softly. “I’m really happy for you both.” She came over and gave Grace a quick, one-armed hug, then did the same to Skye.
The normalcy of it, the immediate acceptance, was a balm. Grace felt the last coil of tension in her stomach unwind. Marco went back to his pancakes, demanding details about who asked who, while Jenna started brewing more coffee.
Skye pulled Grace to the empty space at the kitchen table, their hands still linked under the checkered tablecloth. She leaned in, her breath warm against Grace’s ear, her voice for her alone. “See? World didn’t end.”
Grace looked around at their friends bickering over syrup, at the morning light streaming in, and finally at Skye’s radiant, triumphant face. She brought their joined hands to her lap.
“No,” she whispered back, her heart so full she thought it might crack her ribs. “It’s just starting.”