Cuffing Season

by Monica McCallan

A soft smile pulled Bianca’s lips wider. Bianca had a great everything, but her mouth was on another level.

It seemed, though, that if you did something damning enough to warrant Bianca Rossi not liking you—because she liked everyone—hell was your only possible destination.

She didn’t know if Bianca realized the sheer amount of game she was projecting right then, but it was causing all kinds of feelings to skitter through Maeve’s body.

It’s like… when it’s cold out and people want to be in short relationships to pass the winter months.

But if he wanted to kidnap her, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a change of scenery.

It could have been worse, she told herself. She’d only gotten awkwardly close to the tree, like she’d wanted to get to know it a little better,

“It’s all so fucked. And now it’s just the two of us, and it feels doubly fucked.” “Is fucked a… technical term?” Bianca asked, her voice soft, like the one she’d use with a skittish animal at the vet. She could see the edges of Maeve’s lips tilt upward. “Usually it’s a verb.”

“Being single is all fun and games until there’s no one to kill the spiders.” “Maybe that’s the truth of what we all want: someone to kill the spiders.”

And then Maeve, in her typical foot-in-mouth fashion, had made a horrible joke about being well-informed on the dangers of car accidents, and she’d thought Bianca was going to start crying in the living room.

When it was just the two of them, Bianca turned to her, voice a little too loud for their close proximity, and said, “So movie night on Monday?” Someone needed to secretly switch that woman to decaf or something.

Bianca’s chin came down to rest on her shoulder as they both looked at the Christmas tree, and she instinctively wrapped her fingers tighter around her camera to find some sense of stability.

She looked so fucking beautiful it felt unreal.

Maeve got her kiss, but not in the way she imagined. Bianca’s touch was soft when she placed a light kiss on Maeve’s nose, more sweet and comforting than anything. And then she brushed their noses together and smiled at her own gesture before leaning back

Cupping her face gently, Bianca ghosted her fingers along Maeve’s jaw. “Well, your mom made you, and I enjoy you very much. Merry Christmas, Maeve.”

“I saw the way she looked at you.” “And what way might that be?” “Like she wants to fuck you senseless and then cuddle up with you to take a nap.

He was cute and friendly and interesting to talk to. The problem was, he wasn’t Maeve.

Are you going to keep dating Jack, too?” “I called Jack yesterday and told him I wasn’t really available anymore.” Jonny slapped his hand against his forehead. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

Because while Bianca knew she was pushing herself out of her own comfort zone to make this work, so was Maeve. And that meant something to her.

“Oh, please. Maeve was just standing in this waiting room, looking at you like a present she’d already unwrapped before and was just dying to unwrap again.”

The person she wanted was Bianca, who just last night had decided that it would be a waste of a perfectly good opportunity if she didn’t handcuff Maeve to the headboard.

Did she believe in fate? Or did she believe that the devil works hard, but lesbians work harder–especially